Music of Twilight
by thegr8sephiroth
Summary: Some people are just destined to meet, whatever their circumstances. Reno and Rude try their hands at running an Opera house. AU, but not connected to Twilight Perfection.
1. Chapter 1

The Phantom and the Firecat

Chapter one: Romanian Castle for lease, needs temporary housekeeper until previous owner pulls himself back together and gets stake out of chest.

Reno, and Rude looked every inch like successful business men as they got out of their chocobo drawn carriage, and with good reason: they were. In the rapidly growing city of Midgar, the two had made names for themselves in different businesses, but hit it off quickly once they met. Reno happened to be in charge of "Arrow Smiths" a company that specialized in fletchers at first but now also employed people who made all kinds of weapons. Rude was in charge of a construction company which was largely credited for laying one out of every 20 bricks in Midgar.

Their similar interests had brought them together, along with their similar ages, both of them were now 32 (or said they were) and had realized the importance of actually getting around to spending their money before they died and had to leave it to their relatives (who hadn't done ANYTHING to earn it, the lazy slobs) not to mention earning some good respect which would go a long way to helping them meet women who they might marry.

Of course, Rude would probably have more success at this than Reno, as Reno had leaned out the side of the carriage and given a wolf whistle to every woman he found attractive on the way there. When they had put their heads together, purchasing the Midgar Central Opera House (or MCOH) had seemed like a great idea. Classy, inexpensive, useable as a tax write off, and it wasn't like they had to ever actually attend any of their new business productions. Besides, Reno had raised the point that "Do you like opera? Because I own a place where we can see one!" would prove a good way to start any conversation with a woman.

While neither of them happened to know the slightest thing about running an Opera house, they had done some intensive research beforehand. Mainly, research that said that the opera house was currently owned by a man who had made his fortune as, well, a soldier of fortune. Figuring out that a less cultured profession could hardly exist, clearly this opera was already in the nature of running itself. It ran itself, and their research had shown that it made money.

Places that ran themselves and made money were always a good investment. At least that was what they were both thinking to themselves as they started to enter the building. This theory was slightly dented by the man who met them as they entered. He was wearing a beat up green outfit, with his long orange hair tied back in a series of braids. "Are you two the new vic.. I mean, owners?"

Reno took a long moment to straighten his blue coat as Rude did the same. "Yes, I am Reno, and this is Mr. Rude and you are?" At hearing his affirmative, (Rude had agreed ahead of time to let Reno do the talking (however wise (or unwise) this was)) the man instantly grabbed their hands and began to vigorously pump them up and down without any of his prior formality.

"So good to have you here, I don't know if I could have lasted another week! My name is Bernadette, Pip Bernadette, and I'm going back to mercenary work, at least in that profession people only shoot at you!" The two businessmen looked at each other, they had worked together for two years, long enough to communicate things to each other, and this one was plainly obvious.

It was like when you were at a ribbon cutting ceremony, and after you cut the ribbon the entire building fell down. This was not a good sign. Something very odd was going on here for a place that was solidly in the black and supposedly managed itself. Once Pip finally managed to stop shaking their hands he began to look around in his jacket turning out his pockets as he did so.

"I'll find the deed for you, I know I have it on me, just give me a moment... What he pulled out did not look like the deed. It looked like a letter, and apparently the seal was a sight to behold. For some reason Pip gave out a scream of fright and ran down the street without a single glance backwards as he went. Rude watched him go and stroked his chin. "What could make a sensible man do such a thing?"

While Rude was surprised, Reno was simply pissed off. "Yeah, I mean he just ran off without giving us the deed, the chiseller!" This was something of a standard conversation between the two of them, and Rude bent down to pick up the letter. It's seal bore a picture of an elaborate tree, and with a small knife he kept on him at all times, he sliced the letter open. He unfurled it and read what it said to his partner. "Dear Mr. Bernadette... It's been profitable, and I wish you only the best. Still, I would have expected you to run all potential buyers past ME! As for the new managers, PTO."

Rude flipped over the letter and continued to read. "To the new 'owners': welcome to my opera house. Please, do tread lightly as I have the greatest desire to keep it in a state of good repair and performing works of the utmost quality. I hope Mr. Bernadette explained things to you, but if he failed to do so, the duty, like most important ones, falls to me. In the soul of wit, I shall be brief.

As long as you do not set foot where you have not been invited, leave my traditional 50,000 gil salary in box five every month (which is, of course, to be left empty during every production so I may observe performances), we shall get along quite well. If you need further clarification see, Ms. Kantar, for whose services, if you are anything like Mr. Bernadette, you will be extremely grateful. Yours sincerely, OG."

Rude and Reno looked at each other, there was something very odd going on here, and they would get to the bottom of it, if they had to take this opera house apart brick by brick then put it back together. The hell if Reno was going to give up money for no good reason!

It had been easy to find Ms. Kantar; she had spotted them wandering around and called them over. She looked to be between 40 and 50 yeas old, with graying brown hair parted by a streak of pure white. Her age showed in her face, but Reno knew something else the moment he saw her.

His Don Juan-Dar, was telling him that if she had been 10 or so years younger he would have already have been hitting on her. Sadly she wasn't, so Reno acquiesced and simply showed her the respect due to a woman who you were paying to make you money. "Ms. Kantar I presume?" Ms. Kantar looked up from the group of women who she had been overseeing.

"You're the new owners, then? I prefer to be referred to as 'Mirri' by the way. Forgive an old lady her eccentricities, but it makes me feel younger." Reno just shrugged, he didn't have the most experience with women who were older than him, so he followed the rule of thumb for dealing with women who he expected to spend more than a few weeks with. Go along with the request, however absurd, till it was over.

"Okay then Mirri, my name is Reno, can you explain this?" Reno held up the letter for Mirri to read, and she took it. After a while she looked up and smiled a smile at him that he didn't like. He wasn't supposed to be smiled at like that, it was the way you smiled at someone when they were getting the short end of the stick. "OG: It stands for Opera Ghost. He lives in here." Reno looked at her and waited to see her laugh or do something to prove that she was joking.

Nothing came, so there was only one thing Reno could do. "Oh my God! Our opera house is possessed, Rude, we need an old priest, and a young priest!" No sooner had Rude turned than had Mirri amended her words. "Not that kind of ghost. He's more like the Janitor, in the sense that he's everywhere if you aren't looking for him, nowhere if you are, and he has ways of making his desires known." "The janitor?" Reno was perplexed, but he quickly realized that he preferred confusion to knowledge. "That's right, the Janitor, nobody even cares enough about me to call me by my name."

Reno spun around, and was amazed that a man who was so tall could move so silently. He towered over Reno's 5'8 by the better part of a foot. He looked down at Reno, with a chin that looked like its owner needed to spend a bit more time shaving, or do so with more care. "Oh, what do you do here, sir?" The man was leaning on a long mop, which had apparently seen a few too many years of use.

"It's my job to keep this place in a fine state of repair." Reno looked around, and he silently wondered if the Janitor did any actual work. Then he turned back around to face Mirri. "So, pray tell, what exactly happens if I should say, refuse to leave my money waiting around for some random guy to come and take it?"

Mirri shrugged, and gave Reno that annoying smile again. "It's impossible to tell, this opera house can be a very risky place; things can go wrong at a moment's notice. You have until the end of the month before you decide to pay up, so maybe what you'll see will help you make up your mind." Even as Mirri spoke, a young girl dashed into the room. She was a brunette, with reddish-brown eyes, and she had "vast tracks of land" as Reno's father had described such traits.

Even as Reno planned exactly what compliment to give the girl, the praise died on his lips as Mirri spoke. "This is my ward Tifa, her father left her with me to teach her how to make her way in the world." The way that Mirri said "ward" Reno instantly pull back from the girl mentally and almost do so physically as well. You just plain didn't hit on some people. "Now then, what is it Tifa?"

Tifa, appeared on the edge of panic as she answered. "It's horrible, the one of the backdrops has fallen on Scarlet!"

Reno scratched his chin wondering what exactly he had just bought himself into, and clearly Rude was thinking the same time. "Scarlet?" Mirri took a moment to ruffle Tifa's hair playfully before she turned to Reno. "Don't worry about it Tifa, I'll take care of this. As for your two concerns, Scarlet is our star performer if she's seriously hurt I'll need to take some drastic actions."

Reno and Rude, looked at each other. "What, are we gonna do about this? " Rude shrugged helplessly. "I'd say the same thing that that Pip guy did, unload it." Reno was tempted to slap Rude. "Of course that's what we're gonna do! We've got a ghost that's cutting out of our pay check, a star who can't perform, we're gonna need to find the first idiot we can unload this place on, then we buy an operahouse that doesn't need an exorcist!"

Sadly, while Reno and Rude were making plans to flee the theater, and possibly the city, just to escape the stigma of this idiotic purchase, Mirri busted them stone cold. She walked into the room, flanked by two younger women. One of them had a figure that doubtlessly someone could have found pleasing, Reno just wasn't that person. Her otherwise attractive appearance reeked of effort, the filmy red garments, the lack of a bra accompanying said garments, it was like he was being bludgeoned over the head with the woman's sexuality.

There was nothing wrong with getting that from a girl he'd be banging for one night and tossing her out the morning after stuffing money into her panties, (assuming he wasn't keeping them for a trophy of his victory), but it was a little offputting in someone who was technically one of his employees. The limp she was walking with was a turn off, too.

The other girl, smaller overall (though they were about the same height) fell smack dab in the middle of 'easy on the eyes' without anything more needing to be said. Mirri glared briefly at the managers, then took a moment to introduce her companions. "This on my right (the braless wonder) is Scarlet, our normal star performer. Following the latest in a long string of accidents to which she has fallen victim, she has refused to sing, and is only here now because I promised her she could be theatrically offended at you over the whole situation. I lied." As Scarlet was about to protest, Mirri turned to her and raised her left hand, placing it alongside her own face with her fingertips at eye level. Scarlet paled, then fled. Mirri resumed her introduction; "this on my left is Aeris Gaste. With your permission, I'd like to have her play the lead. Let her sing for you, she has been trained by... a master."

The tone that Mirri used was one Reno familiar with. It was the tone of a woman who was making a suggestion that wasn't really a suggestion; anyone who could use that tone so well would have made an excellent mother in Reno's book. "Of course!" Reno and Rude nodded stupidly as they prepared to sit down and delay their departure from this black hole from which no sane man seemed to escape.

It was unclear how much of Aeris' voice could be credited to her mysterious tutor, and how much was just innate talent. However, to those with Reno and Rude's level of cultural awareness, it was a non-issue. They didn't know, nor did they need to know, _why_ she sounded good, it was enough that she did. "Good" being a masterful understatement- Aeris had a light, clear voice that was pleasantly devoid of Scarlet's penchant for shrillness(to which many of the opera employees attributed her string of accidents- clearly the Ghost was a music lover)

After having heard the girl sing, Reno and Rude pounded each other on the back and jumped up and down in a way that, knowing them to be middle aged businessmen with no immediate prospects for getting laid, could only mean one thing: they were going to be making a lot of money. "Did you hear that girl's voice?" "We're going to make millions of gil! Mirri does all the work, and we get all the cash!"

"I told you this place was a good buy." "We can be accredited for being the people who discovered a new opera sensation!" In all this merry making, neither Rude now Reno took time to wonder about the Opera Ghost, as least not until the facts hit them right on the head. Not surprisingly this happened about the same time as the sandbags did.

FN: The Firecat and Sephiroth clone writing and editing team is back in action! This fic is more or less going to be the opposite of Twilight Perfection where in you had FF7's plot but with most of the protagonists played by OCs. Here you'll have a plot which has more or less nothing to do with FF7 but only a few OCs and only in the minor parts. In the next chapter expect Viscount Strife to show up and find out that he's got his work cut out for him if want to woo the opera houses lastest star. The former owner of the opera house belongs to Kohta Hirano. The Janitor belongs to Bill Lawrence. Mirri belongs to me, or maybe I belong to her, who cares?

OWAN: Mirri's name will continue to change with every incarnation, if only to avoid the temptation of fourth-wall breaking.


	2. Chapter 2

Phantom Chapter two: Why is he wearing a cape? Why not, it's good cape weather.

A young, reasonably handsome and dynamic looking man held the reins to his chocobo-drawn carriage as he headed towards Midgar Central Opera House. He was not one whit put out by the chaos around him. He was also not one whit put out by the fact that he was causing said chaos. He was determined to stay in the middle of the road regardless of who else was coming or going slower or faster then him.

Crippled beggars suddenly found themselves in possession of two fully functional legs as they leapt clear of his wheels. He took a turn going full speed, and side swiped another carriage, that carriage at once fell over, caught fire, exploded, and a lone flaming wheel passed his carriage on the right.

Meanwhile, that carriage's two chocobos, now freed from the oppression of human control, warked in jubilation and dashed off in opposite directions. Just like the two birds, the driver (whose hair resembled their plumage not only in color but also in style) was equally without malicious motive. Though the fact that the chocobos had accepted him as one of their own made him an excellent rider, driving them was another matter altogether.

After all, driving was not a suitable skill for a nobleman to have in his possession. As they approached the Opera House itself, the Viscount's "driver", who had been satisfied to sit drunkenly in the back seat suddenly took notice of their trajectory and let out a cry of alarm. "NOT THE STAIRS, NOT THE STAIRS!"

The Viscount adjusted the chocobos' path slightly and they managed to pull into the Opera House's stables without inflicting any damage to the building itself. He jumped out and accidentally landed on a stable hand that had been inspecting the carriage's wheels. Reno and Rude, who had been standing at the entry to the stables quickly raced forward to greet their patron. The Viscount Strife had helped bankroll several of Reno and Rude's ventures without ever bothering to learn exactly what they consisted of.

"So I take it as always you two have everything running on schedule?" Reno and Rude exchanged a look before Reno put the best foot they had forward. "Well, we're putting on an opera tonight, just like we promised to, and we have box three ready for you as well!" Cloud nodded, quite assured that everything was well in hand and headed out of the stables.

Reno exhaled a heavy sigh of relief, glad that their patron hadn't asked who was going to be the lead in tonight's production. "Rude I'm too knackered to actively make a joke, he's a dumb rich blond; fill in your punchline."

"..."

"Yeah, that's pretty good." Plenty of people wondered how it was that two self made men like Reno and Rude had met a born aristocrat like the Viscount.

The simple fact of the matter was that earlier in his life Reno had served as a footman to the Viscount's father. Of course, even from a young age, Reno had always been an enterprising sort, so he had gone to great lengths to cultivate two things during his employment. One of them was the young Strife's favor, the other was a collection of his father's valuables.

When he had eventually been fired due to his habit of helping himself to whatever his master left lying around, the young Cloud Strife had not been told the reason for his friend's dismissal and so later in life they had resumed the same general relationship. Much like how a small fish can attach itself to a shark and greedily devour bits of food too small for the shark to care about, Reno gorged himself on scraps of the Strife family's wealth.

Well, in reality he was no longer actively stealing from them, he was just using their wealth to augment his own. "Remember, Rude: whatever happens, we have to make sure that Scarlet can't talk to the Viscount. If they put their 'minds' together, who knows what horrors could result?"

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As the lights dimmed Reno finally allowed himself a muffled scream into his clothes. "Come on Rude, let's get out of here, my ears can't take any more of this." Rude looked down as people vacated their seats, with the exception of the fifth box which had, out of self-preservation, never been occupied. "We can't go now, it's only intermission."

Reno was already stretching in preparation for the sprint to the nearest pub. "The hell we can't, no one is going to be looking at us, let's get while the getting is good." "But we have to be here to take the credit when it ends." Reno fell flat on his face in mid stride out of the box. He did not allow the fact that his face was pressed against the floor to stop him from talking.

"Dammit, you're right! But I swear to god, I can't take another hour of this without a drink." "There's an hour and a half left." "Even worse! Come one, we run this place, there's got to be somebody we can make go buy and bring us drinks!" Rude crossed his arms in irritation. "Reno, we're currently putting on an Opera, ergo everyone in the opera house is busy. Where do you think we can find someone who will buy us drinks?"

"Standing right behind you." As Reno stood back up, he didn't ask how the Janitor had gotten into their private box, he had a more pressing question. "How much to keep this between the three of us?"

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With a bunch of flowers in hand, Reno was mister smooth, up and coming opera star, up and coming business man, it was mean to be! Sadly the Viscount Strife had no regard for what Reno's destiny should be. "Hey, Reno, Aeris was pretty good tonight wasn't she?"

Before Reno could respond, Cloud took the bouquet of flowers from his hand, and was through the door. "Wow, I guess he must have already been introduced to Ms. Gaste."

Reno turned and looked at Rude's insufferable and unreadable face. "If that is the best you can come up with, your ability to read people is failing you. I can quite simply tell you, he wants to hit that. And I see that one of the dancers gave you a chain. Well that's matrimony for you."

Rude put a calming hand on Reno's shoulder. "Yes, Reno, behind your back everyone is copulating with everyone else. While you were busy buying those flowers, I was busy indulging in carnal delights with Mirri." Reno pulled out the velvet gloves he kept just for this occasion, and slapped the nonexistent mocking smile right off Rude's face.

"That's for taunting me like an idiot. I may see more romance going on there really is, but if you had really just done it with Mirri you wouldn't be smiling at me for a very simple reason. You wouldn't have a head left, because she'd have ripped it off so she could lay her eggs down your throat."

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"You sang beautifully tonight!" Despite his complement, Cloud couldn't help but notice that Aeris' eyes drifted between the bushel of flowers that he had laid in what was the only corner of the room not currently occupied by flora, and a single red rose wrapped with a black ribbon. Cloud stood up and picked up the rose, careful to hold it so as not to prick his fingers. "Who is this from?"

Aeris, instantly realizing that her gaze had betrayed her, darted her eyes to look at one of the countless other bushels of flowers that had apparently appeared in her room spontaneously after her performance. "It's from my mentor." Cloud raised an eyebrow, as wheels began to turn in his head.

"Who is he?" Aeris once again to cautiously looked around the room trying to find something to focus on that was worth focusing on. Inevitably she met Cloud's gaze.

"Do you remember, when I was very young my father said that when he died he would send and Angel of Music to look after me?" Cloud nodded along, his childhood memories were not the strongest, but he wasn't about to argue with Aeris over something, as pointless as that, so he just nodded along. "Well my father has died, and he has sent an Angel of Music to look after me. The Angel of Music is the one who has taught me to sing."

Was it just him or did the room suddenly look a lot smaller, as if it were closing in on him? He quickly grasped Aeris'' hand half pulling her to her feet as he stood up. "Aeris, I can't help but feel that you must be spending too much time cooped up in this dusty place. Come with me, and we'll have a night on the town, you know, celebrate properly!"

Aeris' bare palm slipped from his grasp as she sat back down in her chair. "No Cloud, the Angel of Music told me that now that I have finally had a chance to show my talent, I must train harder than ever." Cloud felt his other eyebrow raising and forced it back down. "Don't worry, Aeris, it won't be long. I'll just go call my driver."

Before Aeris could voice any protest, Cloud left the room with purposeful step, and did not see the key he had left in the doors lock, slowly rotating of its own volition. Cloud did almost turn his head as he thought he heard someone say "yoink!" behind him, but dismissed it as the wind.

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The moment the door swung closed, a gust of wind rippled through the theater and extinguished all the candles. This might not have been so remarkable, except that all of the doors and windows were closed. Even inside Aeris' room candles were snuffed and left bereft of life, bathing the opera house in darkness.

The moment the last candle flame flickered and died, a baritone voice filled the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Impudent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" Aeris, who had been about to leave, turned to face inward into her room. "Angel, I hear you. Speak, I listen: stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, master."

The echoing voice was softer this time, and seemed to only come from where Aeris looked. "Flattering child, you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide; look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" Aeris directed her eyes, towards the full length mirror that hung on the wall of her room. "Angel, of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory."

As Aeris, looked into the mirror, overlapping her reflection which seemed to grow more insubstantial which each moment as the figure became more solidified. "Angel of Music hide no longer." He stood a little over six feet tall, with sleek silver hair tied back in a neat ponytail. From head to toe he was dressed in black, except for a white mask obscuring the right side of his face. "Come to me, strange angel." Aeris' reflection was completely gone, only the figure remained. "I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music.

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Outside in the hall the janitor was walking by, swinging his chain of keys and whistling off key. As he heard a considerably louder sound coming from inside the door, he put his ear to the door. And went back to whistling under his breath, something very odd was going on in there, and he intended to find out. Just as soon as he found out which one of his legion of keys opened the door.

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"I am your Angel, of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music." Very slowly Aeris reached forward into the mirror which no longer was a mirror, and felt a black gloved hand there for her to take. As she left her room behind, she found herself in a long hallway. There were candles set into the walls, and as her Angel approached them, his green eyes seemed to glow slightly, and the candles burst into light.

\In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name./ Slowly Aeris began to sing, her voice echoing down the corridor. "And do I dream again, for now I find, the phantom of the Opera is there inside my mind." As they left the hallway the Phantom began to lead her down a spiraling staircase. Though the Phantom seemed to be able to see perfectly, Aeris could only make out the basest sense of where the stairs and walls where.

"Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet." The staircase gave way to a sloping pathway. "And though you turn from me, to glance behind... The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind." Aeris didn't doubt his words, her teacher had something that bordered on clairvoyance. At the bottom of the slope was a black chocobo, which the Phantom helped her to mount.

"Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear." The Phantom clicked his tongue, and the chocobo started to walk down the level corridors, though only the bird and her guide could be see what was happening. "I am the mask you wear." The Phantom easily kept pace with the bird without seeming to hurry at all and replied without turning: "It's me they hear." "Your spirit and my voice." "My spirit and your voice." "In one combined! The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my/your mind."

Her guide laid a hand on the Chocobo, making it duck its head which in return meant that Aeris only felt a cold rock brush against her hair rather than being knocked senseless. "He's there the Phantom of the Opera." Her guide helped her off her mount as they came to a dock with lanterns hanging nearby. "In all your fantasies, you always knew that man and mystery..."

He helped her onto the boat, and as she sat down, he stood up and used a push the boat from the dock. "Were both in you." Other than their voices, the boat moved along in complete silence. "And in this labyrinth, where night is blind, the Phantom of the Opera is there/here, inside your/my mind..."

As they came to a wrought iron portcullis, her guide simply gave it one look and it began to rise. "Sing, my angel of Music!" It was a command that Aeris was unable to disobey. "He's there, the Phantom of the Opera." As the boat sailed, under the gate, unlit candelabra rose from the water, and then as soon as they were fully risen they ignited with green flame. As he left the boat, the Phantom took of his long coat and tossed it without a care. A gust of wind carried the cape, making it land perfectly on a hook.

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The Janitor was surrounded by members of the opera, female members of the opera. Thus it was in his best interest to keep them occupied for as long as possible, thankfully he had a good topic for it. "His skin is as brittle and yellow as parchment! A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew! You must be always on your guard or he will catch you, with his magical lasso."

As he spoke the Janitor took a noose of rope, and draped it around one particularly pretty girl's neck drawing her close to him. Then, then, just as he was about to achieve actually physical human contact with the opposite sex, Mirri came in. "Janitor, if you spent half as much time cleaning this place up as you did chasing after things that can't be caught, we would have the cleanest opera house in Midgar."

That broke the spell and pretty soon, Mirri was the only female person left in the room. "Aww, Mirri why did you have to do that?" "How does 'because you don't do anything to earn your keep' sound? You should show more reverence to the Phantom, those who speak of him too flippantly tend never to speak again." The Janitor looked at Mirri, and felt and odd reserve of strength well up in him.

"Really? Because I swear on the life of my mop, that I will not rest, nor work, till I track down our ghost." "You haven't worked since the day you were hired." The Janitor would not let this stop him. "Neither freezing rain, nor stinging sleet will stop me!" "You might want to look inside the Opera first." "I'll climb the highest mountain, descend to the lowest valley, and look in darkest cave!" "Try visiting the dustiest corner." "I'll tear this Opera house apart brick by brick, if I have to!" "You won't, at this rate it'll fall apart on its own!" "I'll get to the bottom of this case!" "Try to get to the bottom of the original case of cleaning supplies." "Never fear, Janitor the private ear, is here!" "Oh dear."

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The Phantom lead Aeris into a large room which was filled with... her. Paintings of her, sculptures of her, sketches of her in ink and charcoal, busts of her, figurines of her, and one life sized mannequin of her in a wedding dress. No sooner was the Phantom's melodious voice about to burst into song once again but her eyes rolled back in her head, and she fainted.

The Phantom caught her and carried her gently over to a small bed that he laid her down in and then drew some curtains around. He turned his back on her unconscious body muttering as he looked at his collection. "I suppose it is a bit over the top..."

He headed towards his own much larger bed and drew some curtains aside glad that there were some parts of his collection that she hadn't seen. Behind that curtain was a giant collage of Aeris Gaste made up of countless smaller paintings of her, it had taken him months to get the thing just right. Thousands of idiots managed to mate with each other like animals in heat every day, so why was it that he, one of the greatest minds in Midgar, had trouble figuring romance out?


	3. Chapter 3

Music of the Twilight

Chapter 3: It's a regular crime wave, and somebody has gotta wave back!

From the moment that Reno was through the door to the opera house he burst into song. This was slightly odd, though breaking away from the blood (and money) sucking insects who called themselves "reporters" made him happy, it hardly made him happy enough to sing under normal conditions. But there was something about the opera house that just made him want to sing, and if he couldn't sing well, he was fairly sure he did it better than Scarlet.

He might not have any idea about tone or pitch, but no one would ever accuse Reno of making dogs howl in pain with his voice. "Mystery after gala night! Mystery of soprano's flight!" He took off his jacket and handed it to one of those men who were just standing around waiting to make Reno's life easier. He did so without losing a beat; now that took some doing.

"Mystified all the papers say! 'We are mystified, we suspect foul play!' We're losing sopranos fast, first Scarlet, and now Miss Gaste... Still at least the seats get sold, gossip's worth it's a weight in gold." Reno was happy overall, put out, but happy, because with the way the tickets were going for their next play Reno was going to make a lot of money. And, quite frankly, there was nothing that could make Reno as happy (okay there as one thing, but the odds of that were fairly low, making money he had practice at) as money.

"What a way to run a business! Spare me these unending trials. Half the cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers! Opera, to hell with Gluck and Hendel, have a scandal, and you'll pack 'em in the aisle" "Reno, you can't sing." The day that Reno was going to take Rude's advice was the day he dropped dead. Since Rude couldn't get Reno to stop, he had to fight fire with fire, he started to sing himself.

"Damnable, will they all walk out? Damnable!" "Rude, please don't shout. It's publicity, and the take is vast! It's publicity..." "But we have no cast!" "But Rude, have you seen the queue..." Slowly Reno's eye came to the small letter in Rude's pocket. "Ah, I see you have one to..."

Rude unfolded the letter and, sighed as began to read/sing. "Dear Rude, what a charming gala, Aeris was in a word sublime, we were hardly bereft, when Scarlet left, on that note, your diva's a disaster, must you cast her when she's seasons past her prime?" Reno pulled out his letter, and still singing read.

"Dear poseur, just a brief reminder. My salary has not been paid! Send it care of the ghost, by return of the post. PTO, no one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed!" At this point Reno, and Rude, decided since that neither could get their way only, they might as well both sing.

"Who would have the gall to send this? Someone with a puerile brain, more letters from our OG! Lets keep this between you and me. This Opera Ghost! It's nothing short of shocking. He is mocking our position, and he wants money in addition. What a funny apparition! To expect a large retainer, nothing's plainer, he is clearly quite insane!"

Sadly, before they could go any farther, the Viscount burst in. "Where is she?" Judging by Reno's eternal law that he would be looking for his girlfriend, he needed no clarification regarding who "she" was. "Ah welcome back!" "Don't dodge the question where is she?" Reno held up his hands, and started to say "search me" but then realized he was being interrogated by someone with a "Y" chromosome.

"How should we know?" "I want an answer! I take it that you sent me this note?" Reno and Rude looked at each other, but no point wondered the Viscount was also singing. "Well what was it we were meant to have wrote... I mean written." Rude took it an slowly read it, then remembering he was in the presence of the Viscount read even slower out loud.

"Don't worry about Aeris, the Angel of Music has her under his wing. Make _no_ attempt to see her again" Just when no one seemed to be tempted to sing any more, Scarlet burst into the room. Reno and Rude reached for their earplugs, only to realize they had forgotten them. Cloud hadn't even thought that far ahead, thus all three got a full force shriek. "Where is he?" "Thank God you're back!" "Your precious patron, where is he?" Reno and Rude exchanged a glance, they were clearly in the presence of towering intellects.

"What is it now?" "I have your letter, a letter which I rather resent!" Scarlet practically slapped the Viscount with the letter, which Cloud looked blankly at for a moment, and handed to Reno. Reno looked at the letter's contents and realized that obviously the Viscount hadn't sent it, it was properly spelled. "Your days at the MCOH are numbered, Aeris Gaste will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune, if you attempt to take her place."

Rude and Reno exchanged another glance, and came up a solution, grovel. Each of them took one of Scarlet's arms and began to lead her up the stairs, into the opera house. "Far too many notes for my taste! And most of them about Ms. Gaste, all we have heard since we came, was Aeris' name..." "Ms. Gaste has returned..." Everyone present turned around, and the Janitor happily pushed his stash of cleaning supplies from the room, his purpose being completed.

Thankfully, Mirri was also there to fill in details. "She's sleeping peacefully at the moment, so don't any of you disturb her, or else." Reno and Rude exchanged a third look. They had at times dealt with men who said "or else we'll break your legs" but Mirri somehow put even more menace into those words. She glared at the Viscount, and even he realized better than to ask her for an exemption to her decrees. "Will she sing?" Mirri pulled out a letter, and passed it to Reno.

"Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theater is to be run." As Reno read the words, he was rapidly drowned out by a deeper, richer voice. It was no leap of logic (for Reno, Rude and Mirri at least) to know whose voice it was, as it originated from no point no matter where you looked. This confounded the Janitor to no end as he raced around, trying to figure out where it seemed to be coming from.

"You have not followed my instructions, so I will give you one last chance. Ms. Gaste has returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress. In your new production of Il Muto, you will therefore cast Scarlet as the page boy, and put Aeris in the role of countess. The role which Aeris plays calls for charm and appeal, the role of the page boy is silent, which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five, which _will_ be kept empty for me! Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!"

Reno wasn't going to take this either, it was time to go back to groveling. "Ms. Scarlet, don't worry about this, your public demands that you go out there and sing! We ask that you go out there and sing! Our bank accounts plead with you to go out there and do the same wonderful job you've been doing every time you go on that stage!" Reno was surprised that a bolt of lightning didn't strike him dead, this was a bit much even for him, but it was for the sake of an opera which made any fabrication believable. "I have been slighted!" "This is a chance to regain your good name!" "I have been replaced!" "This is a chance to screw Aeris over!" "… I'll do it."

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The Phantom sat back down in his chair, smiling at his results. He had a miniature replica of the lobby of the Midgar Central Opera House, complete with small duplicates of everyone who had been in the room. It was difficult to correctly move six puppets with only two hands, but the Phantom was a master of every art he put his glorious mind to.

Imbedded in the heads of five of the puppets were small yellow stones. They were the results of a Manipulate materia that he had carefully cut to exacting specifications. It was an abasement of materia magic, but using it in this voodoo-ish form had the desired affect just like he'd guessed it would. Since he was quite sure no one would hear him now he allowed himself a deep chuckle. "Yes! Sing, my puppets, sing!"

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James Firecat was a wizened little man who happened to be in possession of an incredible amount of energy for his age. He also happened to be the man who conducted the operas that took place in the Midgar Central Opera House. He was busily testing his baton to make sure it was appropriately springy when the Janitor approached him with his offer. "Hey James..."

James looked up, put down his baton, took a moment to try and smooth down his constantly ruffled clothes and turned to the Janitor. "What?" The Janitor leaned close conspiratorially, though they were the only ones in the room. "Do you know about the Phantom?" James nodded eagerly as he picked his baton back up. "Of course I know about the Phantom! We're living, working, and drinking in his opera house!"

The Janitor pulled back slightly, James might be old, but it was said that concerning opera he could fight with the reckless abandon seen only in the very young who hadn't learned better or the very old who had nothing to lose. "Don't the new guys own the opera house? What were their names again, Lechy the Boozehound, and Baldy McNotalk?"

James shook his head, looked around the various sheets of music that covered the walls of his room, he really did have opera on the brain. "Owners come and go Janitor, but the Phantom will outlast them all!" Perhaps the Janitor was looking for the wrong person to help him considering that he wanted to get rid of the Phantom. "Why do you say that?" James absentmindedly tapped his baton on top of a line of music, as if expecting a chorus to start playing.

"Because he has the home field advantage. He never leaves the opera house, he doesn't produce the operas, he just has to think about doing what he does. Can you think of anyone else who has the time to possibly match wits with him when we have operas to perform?" The Janitor did not push the issue further, he just walked out of James' office and smiled, who indeed could find the time? He could, that's who!

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Hard hats on, earplugs in, goggles over the eyes, someone else might have thought Reno and Rude were going to do construction work, but no they were just going to an opera. Welcome to Midgar Central Opera House, where insane demands were the order of the day, if not from the resident ghost, then from the actors.

Or from their patron: the Viscount wanted to be in box five tonight. Reno and Rude couldn't argue with him, but they were watching from box 15, they wouldn't have a good view of the show (not that they cared) but Reno and Rude wanted to be as far from the Viscount as possible when whatever happened to him, happened.

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The small spray bottle seemed to flicker. It was there one moment, gone the next, and then back. The bottle looked the same, and so did the contents, but the mixture for Scarlet's throat spray now had few extra ingredients that would surprise (her) and delight (anyone who wasn't tone deaf) without fail.

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It was halfway through the play when it happened. In fact, it was just halfway through a song, which made it all the more noticeable. Scarlet's voice died. For a few moments everyone simply leaned forward to see if they simply couldn't hear what was happening but it wasn't them, it was her. Reno slowly removed his earplugs, and risked a look at the stage.

This was too good to be true, which could only mean one thing. "What's gone wrong now, Rude?" Rude adjusted his opera glasses slightly before risking a guess. "Well I'd have to say that it looks like our Prima Donna has lost her voice." Reno suddenly understood how it must have felt to be a religious man. Then he realized why he wasn't a religious man. "We have to go out there and explain things, don't we?" Rude nodded sadly. It was at that point that the laughter started.

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The Phantom sat in the rafters watching his work unfold. He was quite put out, his usual seat had been usurped by the spiky haired, selfish brat, he would do something about this, that was for sure. But at the moment, he was far too busy enjoying the opera. Granted this was not quite correct. Il Muto was a decent enough opera, and unlike everyone else watching it (opera was a lot like making love in his experiences, many men prided themselves on having great knowledge of it, but in private most of them were but new born babes) he could precisely follow every movement.

Still, not even the Phantom could enjoy a show while Scarlet was playing the lead and Aeris was being forced to play the mute. But he had taken steps to correct that. The wonderful thing about having an owner like Reno was that he was so utterly predictable, he wanted money.

Thus, faced with the possibility of refunding tickets (and having to sit through half a show for nothing) Reno would put Aeris in as the lead and put Scarlet where she belonged. Of course, this was to his credit; if he was an unruly dog, at least Mr. Reno knew what was good for him. Some of the previous owners had thought themselves actual lovers of opera, and (thus proving them anything but) would have done anything regardless of the cost to keep Scarlet as the lead equally regardless of how many blunt objects he dropped on their very dense heads.

Of course he would have to do something to punish those two for not obeying his commands. The problem was that the only way to hurt Reno would have been to hit his pocketbook.

The Phantom was a gentleman, and thus not about to sink to petty theft, he could have just as easily taken the money he demanded, leaving none the wiser, but he was above such acts. He was also above simply pinching Reno's pocketbook to get back what he was due, he would have to think of something else. That would be a challenge, but the Phantom enjoyed a challenge, it made you think, something very few other people evidently did, from his experiences.

"AHA!" The Phantom turned around lazily and faced the Janitor, who was gesturing with his mop like it was a sword. "Do you know how rude it is to interrupt a man while he's trying to watch an opera?" Of course this wasn't quite true, the opera was momentarily on hold while Reno and Rude figured out how to sell their egos for as much money as possible.

"Your days of haunting this theatre are over Phantom, I've found your secret passage!" Had he? Oh well, this was a problem easy to correct. The Phantom smiled as he casually swept aside his cape, revealing a long length of coiled rope. The Janitor stepped forward, mop in hand. "What do you think you're going to do with that?" The Phantom flicked his wrist, bringing the noose at the end of the rope down around the Janitor's neck. The Phantom smirked as he replied: "I'm going to catch you with my magic lasso." Then his hands were a blur as he tied a quick, yet perfect sheepshank knot around the railing. With a quick yank on the rope, he sent the Janitor sailing over his head and off the catwalk. The last thing the Janitor heard was "oops."  
.

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Reno and Rude slowly walked out from behind the parted curtain, both of them looking extremely pale. "Ladies and gentleman, if we knew something like this could happen, then we would have paid the ghosts' extortion demands, I mean we would have taken your money and run, I mean we would have taken some precautions in case of this kind of unexplainable yet entirely unrelated mishap should transpire, I mean..."

Reno and Rude looked at each other, and did the only sensible thing to do when it all went to pot, they ran. They ran in opposite directions, that way one of them was more likely to escape the angry throng, they had plenty of practice at this, and they were both fairly spry. James turned to face the audience, as he was the only voice of reason left since Mirri was currently backstage.

"Ladies and gentleman, the managers have left the building. To make up for it, we now present the ballet from act three, while our cast attempts to pull itself together!"

That was when the curtains parted and a body dropped from the rafters with a noose tied tightly around its neck. The body slammed into the stage, emitting a tremor that toppled a lit candelabra into the highly flammable bed that was still onstage. Then the grand chandelier's rope suddenly caught fire, and James knew what that meant would happen in a few moments.

"Ladies and gentlemen, remain calm! Oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling please connect them and continue to breath normally even if it appears that the bag is not inflating! If you have small children with you, attach your own masks first and let the little buggers fend for themselves! Please note your nearest exits..."

James took a moment to point to them with his baton. "And walk, DO NOT RUN to them, that way I can be out first!" James Firecat was pretty spry when it came to running, though he made sure to grab his baton and the musical score first. The ropes didn't snap till he already had a good head start. Opera, you come for the music, but you stay for the show!


	4. Chapter 4

Music of the Twilight

Chapter four: Who ordered this?

Aeris rushed off of the stage and back to her room as quickly as she could. Once she managed to get to her room, she sat down on her bed and started to cry. He couldn't have done that, not her angel of music, could he have? It must have been some kind of horrible accident, some kind of horrible accident which just happened to be accompanied by maniacal laughter a few moments later... yeah, and she was a D-cup.

He had always looked after her, but now... Everything up until now had seemed relatively harmless, dropping scenery and sand bags on people, it was hard to imagine him killing someone, only to try and teach a lesson. But that noose, the body hanging from it... That hadn't been meant to teach or instruct, it had been intended to kill. If her angel of music was willing to kill people... And for what reason?

The Janitor hadn't been holding any weapons, so it was hard to believe it was self defense. Hard to believe that anyone besides her could see, could interact with her angel of music. And what that meant... it frightened her to her very core. There was only one thing she could do about it, she had to find Cloud, no matter how much she wanted to stay in her room, stay here, she had to leave, there was simply nothing else for it.

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Cloud was making his way out when Aeris suddenly ran up to him, tears streaming from her eyes, and it felt like she was holding onto him for dear life. "Cloud we have to go to the roof, there's something important I need to tell you." Cloud didn't have to think twice concerning the simple fact that you didn't argue with a hysterical woman without a damn good reason.

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Aeris looked around the roof. It should be safe enough up here, certainly safer than down there, after all there weren't that many places for someone to hide up here, and certainly very few places for a man to suddenly jump out and be right next to them. Perhaps best of all being on the roof, there weren't any overhanging objects to fasten a noose to. "Cloud, you care about me, don't you?"

Cloud nodded slowly. "Then please, we need to get out of here, get out of here and never come back." Cloud's eyebrows twitched in surprise. "But Aeris, I thought there was nothing in the world you loved more then singing." Aeris shuddered slowly. "I do love to sing Cloud. But I think my angel of music was responsible for killing that man."

Cloud looked like he wanted to shake her, but he settled for grabbing her hands and clasping them in his. "No angel did this, it was the work of a man, no, a monster!" Aeris shook her head sadly. "It was him, Cloud. I know it."

"Aeris, I'm trying to understand, but I fail to see how your childhood fantasy could kill a man."

"He's not a fantasy! I've seen him, touched him, looked into his eyes… oh, God, those eyes, I can still feel them!"

"Aeris, don't talk that way, there's no one here but me."

"I hope so. Please, let's just leave. I can't stand to be here any longer." Cloud pulled Aeris into a tight hug. "Don't worry, everything will be all right, I promise you."

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"I gave her my music, I made her what she is today, and this is how she repays me? By running off with some inbred "noble" brat?" Sephiroth A. Valentine, Opera Ghost, Phantom of the Opera, and master of every craft he had ever attempted was tempted to spit on the carriage as it marched off taking the love of his life with it, but that would have been petty. He was tempted to break down and cry, but self-indulgent behavior like that would only waste time. Besides, it was snowing. Killing, now killing would work...

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As Sephiroth was moving through one of his many secret passages, he almost tripped over obstruction that was lying across the floor. "Hey, watch it!" He looked down at the body and sighed. "Can't you be dead, just for a little while?" Today, despite all of his brilliant planning, was evidently not going to be one of the better days of his life.

For some reason he had done everything perfectly, and yet not one of his schemes had gone off the way it should have. "I don't die that easily." Sephiroth was more then willing to believe that. "Listen, I realized at the last moment that I didn't use enough rope of a man of your height, but surely the impact of your body against the stage should have broken your legs. What the hell are you doing here?" "I crawled."

Sephiroth was impressed by this man's efforts but not so much by his actual actions. "So after I temporarily crippled you, you honestly believe that you're going to be able to stop me the second time around?" "I'm here to help you actually."

"If you wanted to help me, you could have just stayed where you fell. Then nobody would think I killed you, and Aeris wouldn't be pissed enough at me to go running into that fool's arms!"

The Janitor shrugged from the floor as best he could. "Oh yes, you were only trying to kill me at the time, and believe me, maimings don't impress the ladies." Sephiroth was having about all he could take of this conversation. "Why should I trust you to help me after I almost managed to kill you? And I expect you to tell me the truth; you're not too tall to stab."

"There's an old saying, if you can't beat them join them. Besides, you spend all your time haunting the occupants of this place, I spend all my time haunting the occupants of this place. It would seem a natural friendship."

He might be onto something there, and Sephiroth could always use another pair of hands to work with. He bent down, and picked up the Janitor by the scruff of his outfit hefting him into the air using only one arm. "Well then I might as well introduce you to the rest of the brain trust. With you here, we should have a total of three brains, all told."

------------------------------

With his grey wig off, James Firecat no longer looked like a wizened conductor, but the vibrant young man with a head of flaming red hair he actually was. Similarly, with the grey dye washed out of her hair, fake wrinkles removed, and out of high heels which had a way of impeding smooth motion, Mirri Kantar would certainly fall into that category of things that Reno would hit on, even if that was not such a defining statement. The streak of pure white remained though, it was a birth mark, but now it divided dark brown on either side.

They both worked for him for the exact same reason, only at the Midgar Central Opera House with his antics on their minds did the "owners" never bother to thoroughly inspect the regular enough looking employees. Mirri was a master at keeping the place ship shape, and seeing that operas went off like clockwork even with whatever possible cast-impairing "lessons" Sephiroth tossed in along the way. Sadly, a woman had to be old enough that she couldn't bear children before men would even consider taking advice from her. Mirri found hair dye and creative makeup _far_ preferable to a 20-year wait.

James was in the same boat, he had an, "unusual" mind, a statement that meant quite a lot when Sephiroth felt it was warranted. He had a perfect understanding of music, and absolutely nothing else. His status of idiot savant could be passed off quite well as senility in an older man, so an older man he became.

James was currently stretched out over Sephiroth's couch, Mirri was leaning against a wall, and Sephiroth sat in a chair at the center of the room. The Janitor, meanwhile, hobbled about on a pair of crutches made from mops that were coming into contact with dust for the first time in their existence. "We have three months to write an opera."

The Janitor, being the newest member of the former triad that actually ran the opera house since they had moved in, was foolish enough to question Sephiroth's time tables. "Why three months?" Mirri instantly supplied the answer. "Because that's how long it takes for a viscount to court a girl like Aeris up to the point that she'll agree to his engagement. When that happens, they'll come back here to celebrate, and we have to be ready."

Sephiroth nodded approvingly to Mirri. "Now with the people gathered in this room, I think we have the talent to actually produce an entire new opera in three months. Once we have the plot, I'll write the bloody thing, James will memorize my work, Mirri will ensure that we have or can get all of the props and backdrops, and Janitor..." There was a very painful pause as everyone looked at each other before they broke into laughter.

When it finally subsided the Janitor put down his duster and smiled at Sephiroth. "I took shop, I can make you a couple of real nice dioramas." Sephiroth looked at him blankly. "Dioramas. I can design the set myself, and the Opera house has plenty of people to put it together. Forget dioramas, just learn how to make coffee. Now then, considering that a broken clock is right twice a day, do any of you three have any ideas for our little show?"

James practically jumped out of his chair. "Why don't we do an opera based on the life of Vlad Tepes?" There was complete and absolute silence in the room. While Sephiroth might be the man that no one dared interrupt, James was the man who no one could find the words to interrupt.

"I can see it now! We can have it be all about him trying to court a girl to be his bride!" That of course begged for the response that came from the other three members of the room. "Which one?" "His second, after his first died and he became a vampire! The torture of an impaled heart! A surefire hit! I can see the lyrics now, 'love at first bite' 'an impaler's lot is not a happy one' 'It's not easy being sanguine!'"

Sephiroth looked at Mirri in irritation as James continued in this vein of conversation. "Isn't there some kind of whistle you can blow to make him be quiet?" Mirri just shrugged as she carefully began to gather a few chairs together, obviously planning to lie across them.

"Sorry sir, you should know James by now, he's like that wind up monkey you're so fond of, once you rotate the lever nothing makes him stop till he runs out of steam. Besides, I think he might be onto something. If we're going to pull this off we need to have the main character be someone tall and imposing. So I think a reproduction of Man of La Mancha is right out."

Sephiroth crossed his arms and gave everyone in the room his best glower. "First off, James, 'sanguine' only rhymes with 'green' on paper, keep yourself interested in the scores, I'll handle the lyrics. As for you, Mirri, what's wrong with Man of La Mancha? I like Don Quixote. It's a story about a man pursuing his dreams, there is no nobler cause." "Sir, with all due respect, it's about a crazy man pursuing his dreams."

"No, it's about a man who everything _thinks_ is crazy pursuing his dreams!" Mirri buried her face in her hands. "Yeah, it's about a man who everyone thinks is crazy pursuing his dream and his assistant who has to work day and night to keep said man from letting his eccentricities run away with him to such a degree that they kill him."

Sephiroth was energized by Mirri's dread and he momentarily enjoyed a vision involving himself, a chocobo, a lance, a windmill, the viscount, and some rope. "Come on Sancha Panza, the giants are winning, we must charge them once again!" 

------------------------------

Viscount Strife burst into Reno and Rude's office waving the note, his face beet red. "What kind of a man would do this? How dare he?" He passed the note to Reno who needed no help recognizing the seal on it, it was the complicated tree with which the phantom marked all his letters.

Reno looked at the still intact seal and then at the Viscount. "So you haven't actually read what's inside yet, have you?" Beads of sweat were starting to form on Reno's head and he made subtle motions to wipe them off. "Of course not! No sensible man would listen to anything he has to say, to think we've managed to go three months without him raising his head! And now this!"

Reno gulped, and Rude handed him a small knife which he then used to open the letter. "Considering all those tickets we had to refund last time, perhaps we'd best do as he says..." Reno slowly began to read the letter, thanking his lucky stars that Strife wasn't. "'My dear guests. It has been sometime since I last corresponded with you, but it is my great pleasure to do so again. Unless you leave the money that I am owed for three months back pay, the sum of 150,000 gill in Box Five, I will have no choice but to attend your Masquerade ball tonight and, MAWAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH take what is mine out of your hides. Yours sincerely, O.G.'"

Strife looked at Reno, and idea slowly forming in the Viscount's head, though it needed a while to reach the top of his spiky head. "He wrote maniacal laughter? What kind of man are we dealing with?" Reno and Rude exchanged looks. "A desperate man Viscount!" "Clearly nearing the end of his rope!" "A man who might do irrational things when cornered! "We should give in at once, or he might do what he threatens!"

"If you'll give us the money we'll take care of it ourselves!" Everything they said was true, it was what they hadn't said that would have truly interested Viscount Strife. For example, the seal was a very elaborate, and apparently successful forgery. Reno and Rude, like any good businessmen, were not above a bit of fraud. They had sent the letter off because the Phantom had been laying low for a while, so why not try to cash in on it?

Clearly the Viscount couldn't directly tell that the two men before him had been responsible for the letter he had handed to them. Or else the Viscount had already realized their incredibly clever ruse and given the letter back to them as a way to let them stew and try to psychologically force them to confess.

On second thought, the Viscount couldn't tell that they had done it, once you eliminated the impossible what remained was true. Also on the basis that the Viscount could pay the sum asked for out of pocket money, Reno and Rude saw nothing ethically wrong with tricking him, and they would take care of the money. Besides, if he had wanted to make money he wouldn't have been a patron; that job broke down to nothing but giving away money, after all!

Reno and Rude were just helping him along, and his money into their hands! The Viscounts anger broke, and he said what they wanted to hear. "Fine, I'll get the money, you take care of it will you, I can't have anything go wrong, it's me and Aeris' first chance to show of that we've been engaged! And upon further recollection, I shouldn't have told you that..." Thankfully the Viscount couldn't hear the "KA-CHING" going off inside Reno's and Rude's head. Neither did he hear the high five they gave each other after he left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Music of the Twilight

Chapter five: I negotiated the hell out of that sorry bastard!

"Who exactly are you suppose to be, the victim of a lightning strike?" Reno glared at Rude, he was rather proud of the outfit that he was wearing to the masquerade. Reno was dressed in a long black cloak with a hood that he planned to pull up over his head before he proceeded to engage in any behavior he didn't want to get his name associated with.

His hair was also arranged in a series of hedgehog-like spikes. "It's not like I've got the most embarrassing outfit here. I've seen some guys wearing ram horns, now correcting me if I'm wrong, but isn't that a way of announcing to the world at large that they've been cuckolded? So, while I no longer have any respect for those men, I find myself suddenly very interested in the prospect of meeting their wives. So, what exactly are you supposed to be?"

Rude was dressed in a black batwing cape and cloak. "I'm a vampire. Is it that hard to imagine me as a vampire?" Reno scratched his chin before his answered. "Vampires usually have long, luxurious hair, not to mention nowhere near as much skin tone as you do. But, I'll admit, you've got the right kind of voice for it. Come on; say 'this kind of night makes me feel like having a bite to drink!'" Rude just twitched an eyebrow at Reno.

"No."

"Did you two invite us to be your dates or to be your beards while you spend the night fondling each others' genitals and laughing in high pitched voices?" Reno bowed elegantly to the blond haired blue eyed woman holding Rude's arm.

"By the way, my dear count, I don't think I've had the pleasure of getting to know that harpy hanging onto your arm?"

"My name is Elena. Believe me, I'm every bit as charmed as you are."

Reno sighed and shrugged before his own blond haired, blue eyed, and big chested minx chuckled softly. Reno wrapped an arm around her shoulder and turned his attention back to business. The four triumphantly walked into the Midgar Central Opera House, though Reno was the one to make the announcement to all those others gathered for the masquerade. "Hello! People of this great city, once again we are open for business! O-P-E-N, got it memorized?"

Reno forgot whatever he was about to say as a young woman walked by in a white formal jacket and black slacks. Reno's mind noted that the white mask on her face blended almost seamlessly into the stripe down the middle of her hair at the same time as his Don-Juan-dar noticed she didn't seem to be wearing anything under the jacket; his mind never stood a chance. "Rude, THAT is what a vampire is supposed to look like. You don't think she goes for girls, do you?" His escort silenced him with a fierce elbow to the ribs, but he didn't care: there was a party going on to celebrate him and Rude, he had a girl on his arm, an apparently exorcised investment, and ill-gotten gains in his pocket. Life was sweet…

------------------------------

"I _thought_ the official colors were black and white." James Firecat stood on a balcony overlooking the dancing. His right hand was holding a bright red cat mask over his face, complemented by the furry ears he was wearing on a headband. In his left hand he held his baton and prior to his interruption, he had been waving it about back and forth in time with the music of the dancing, somehow trying to capture the motion of each and every dancer with a few simple swishes and flicks of his left hand. He turned to face Mirri quickly depositing the baton into a small leather holder he had clipped to his leg, much like how many a soldier might keep a trusted dagger close at hand at all hours of the day or night.

"I contemplated going with all black, but you know what they say about black cats crossing paths. So I decided to go with red instead. Besides I plan on spending most of my time up here out of the way so hopefully no one will notice my failing to meet the dress code. After all, at my age all my best dances are behind me."

"Is that so?" Mirri casually kicked a small lever that no one would notice on their own, and a pair of curtains descended across the small balcony, making it impossible to see what was happening behind from below where the main party was going on. "Tell you what, since you're so old and tired, I'll lead and you just try and stay on your feet."

------------------------------

"Are you people stealing the hooch?" It was one of the most pointless questions that Reno had ever asked in his life. Some of the stage hands, costume makers, and other oft-ignored employees of the Opera House were standing right before him with bottles taken from the party's bar in their hands.

"Ummm…" Every one of them either looked away as if hoping that their not seeing Reno would mean he couldn't see them, or looked imploringly at him hopping to lessen their punishment. Apparently the locals still didn't understand that Reno was the owner of this opera house.

"Well, don't just stand there simpering like idiots, lets find the good labels before these ungrateful fools who came here to eat my food and drink my booze get their hands on them!"

------------------------------

Sephiroth casually looked through a small peephole, taking in the masquerade, looking for the one guest he cared about. "The colors are black and white, so why are you wearing red again?" Sephiroth turned to the Janitor, he would say this for the man, he recovered very quickly.

"Because it's the red death, not the black death, and not the white death. Would it kill you acquire a certain amount of culture if you're going to insist on being one of my minions? I have an important image to maintain in this opera house." Suddenly he caught a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye; yes there was only one person who could be so possibly off tone with the other dancers! A quick check confirmed what he saw. "Aha, there he is! Now then time to set the stage for my grand entrance from the wings of probability onto the center stage of cold hard fact."

"You're extending that metaphor little far, boss."

"You know, as master planners go, I don't have a very high turnover rate of minions, but I do have one; you know the poor old fool who used to go around catching and eating rats in the catacombs beneath the opera house?"

"No."

"Exactly."

------------------------------

"James, Mirri, you know what to do."

"Damn it!" Mirri rolled off of James and quickly grabbed her jacket. She put it back on and took a moment to arrange her hair, (a few pins wielded as expertly as any blade helped considerably) pull on her jacket, and began to button it up again. "No rest for the wicked, I guess. James, do you need me to point out where the right lever is?" James shook his head, grabbing his jacket and his mask, but not bothering to put on either and racing out into the hallway. Before anyone else saw him, he reached a wall, patted a few panels, and tilted a picture a bit to the left, far to the right, and then just a touch to the left. Gears rotated and a wall swung outwards. James quickly ducked through, closing the wall/door behind him. That left him alone in the small room with a modified pipe organ. Instead of pointing straight up, the organ's pipes were all tilted at ludicrous angels designed to pump what music was played on it directly into the main lobby of the Opera House. James sat down on the bench and pretended to crack his knuckles, then he refrained from running his hands across the keyboard, (which would have sent a discordant blast of noise into midst of the masquerade gala) instead pressing down hard on one single key for all he was worth.

A single chord, considerably louder then any of the other music being played in the room at present shocked everyone into trying to find out exactly where it had come from. They looked upwards, and then spun about once again when the Phantom appeared at the top of the central staircase in a self-indulgent burst of flame.

He was wearing an extravagant suit, a wide-brimmed hat and knee-high boots, all the scarlet of freshly spilled blood. His face was covered with a skull mask, and, as he walked down the stairs, each footfall echoed across the otherwise silent hall.

"Why so silent, friends? Could you be _that _surprised to see me? You go to the trouble of throwing this excellent masquerade ball, a night celebrating the grotesque: deamons, goblins, and all manner of monsters, and yet somehow you neglect to invite me, the grandest monster of them all? If ever there was a night for me to rule, then this is it…" He reached over his shoulder and pulled a long, curved sword from the sheath worn across his back. "So I intend to rule, and I'd suggest none of you interrupt my royal decrees, or else there will be immediate and severe consequences. First of all, allow me to present my… less than loyal subjects with a gift."

He reached into his jacket, and produced a book bound in black leather which he tossed to the floor. "It's an opera that I have written just for you, and it will be the next show that you put on for the public. If you chose to attempt anything else, you'll suffer more 'technical difficulties' than a pigeon in a hurricane." If owning the Opera House and life in general had taught Reno one thing, it was how to deal with people with huge egos.

"This humble establishment could never hope to do proper justice to a play written by brilliant you; maybe you should take it up the street to…." In an instant the Phantom was before Reno, his blade at the manager's throat.

"You of all people should be aware that this place hasn't done justice to a single _opera _in years. I don't expect you to do it justice, I'm not that insane. I simply require that you do it, and you will, or I'll make your lives so interesting that you'll replay every one of our conversations in your head, desperately seeking some clue as to which of my threats I'll fulfill next. Since I am already standing before you, I suggest you turn over the 150,000 gill you have in your pocket, it is rightfully mine after all. If you refuse, then I'm afraid I'll be forced to sink to the level of alphabetizing your organs, and I'd really rather not get my hands dirty today." Reno quickly produced the note, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it to the Phantom, who shoved it quickly into a pocket before turning back to face as many of those assembled as he could.

"With that dull little business matter out of the way, I have a few suggestions on what you can do to insult my play as little as possible." The Phantom turned to towards Scarlet and Peter Shinra, the Opera house's defaults for the female and male leads, respectively. Peter was dressed as a sultan, and had the right type of body for it. "First, Scarlet must be taught to act, or at the very least shoved into a closet somewhere her voice will be unable to offend the audience. Secondly, our male lead should lose some weight; obesity will send you to an early grave, trust me." The Phantom slid his blade back into its sheath and approached the person who had truly brought him there that day. "And you, Miss Aeris Gaste. I am willing to overlook your feminine hysterics if you return to my side; there is still so much I can teach you. How ever, I must say that this gaudy trinket does not suit you in the slightest." A black gloved hand tore the locket from Aeris' neck with a single yank. The Phantom then retreated to the center of the circle, slowly turning as he did so. Upon reaching the foot of the grand stairway, he vanished in a burst of flames.

It failed to rank as one of history's most impressive exits; as the smoke cleared a section of the floor was quite obviously opened up beneath where he had been standing, making how he escaped quite obvious to even the most dull of intellects. Which could explain why Viscount Cloud Strife jumped into that hole without even bothering to try and gauge just how deep it was. He didn't even wonder why the Phantom would have chosen such an obvious path of escape until the hole above him snapped closed, sealing him alone in a dark room the man he had been perhaps a bit too overeager in perusing.

FN: Yes it's a short chapter. The god news is that any day (more probably week, possibly month what do you want from me people) I should be posting a Suikoden fic titled Ronin Trip under my own account on Check that out and review, and don't worry I wrote the story so that it'd be fairly teligeable even if you aren't familiar with the series. Rude and Reno's outfits were both jokes based on who else their voice actors had portrayed

OWAN: Last I heard, my cousin is spell-checking Ronin Trip, so it should be readable. Pardon the delay, but life has been moving fairly quickly and fiction is scrambling to catch up. On the other hand, this means you get Masquerade on Halloween! Enjoy!


	6. Chapter 6

Music of the Twilight

Chapter six: Grave meetings.

"You small-minded, impetuous fool." Cloud drew his blade as he found himself face to face with the Phantom. It hard to tell how exactly the room was lit, but it wasn't quite pitch black, Cloud could see his opponent at the very least. "You have haunted Aeris long enough, be gone!" There was a whisper of moving air and a flash of light reflecting off of a blade, and then half of Cloud's sword fell to the floor. He hadn't truly seen the Phantom move, but even bearing in mind the size of his weapon, he couldn't have struck from where he currently stood.

"A piece of less than friendly advice Viscount, don't try to attack a man with a real sword, when all you have is the ornamental one you brought to augment your costume. Also, your grip is wrong. All combat starts with the hands, if a man can't control his hands, he can't control his weapon, and if he can't control his weapon, how can he hope to harm his foe? If he can control his hands however, anything can be a deadly weapon. A pen can end a man's life, either by signing his death warrant or by being driven through his eye socket. It doesn't even need to be sharp or hard, I could end your life with something as simple as a piece of rope."

The Phantom sheathed his blade and pulled a noose from his coat. He seemed to flicker, as if Cloud was standing in the center of a house of mirrors, seeming to appear to be on his left, on his right, directly before him, and in trying to keep track of him Cloud eventually was driven to such distraction that it took him a few moments to finally notice that his foe had somehow departed from the room.

He had left a grim reminder of his presence, however: his noose was hanging from a hook in the ceiling, as if taunting Cloud to step into the instrument of his own demise. A quick glance backwards to make sure that no obvious death traps waited for him, and Cloud slowly turned and then began to look for some way to discover how the Phantom had fled, or at least some way out of the cell he had jumped into.

Suddenly, an all but blinding stream of light filled the room as a section of the wall turned slid aside and Mirri Kantar walked through it, a lit candlestick in hand. "Come with me. You are near to Miss Gaste's heart, so he will not further upset her by killing you. Yet." Cloud made for Mirri, and soon found himself in a passageway that, if he didn't recognize, was at least much better lit than the previous one.

"How did you determine were I was, madam? More to the point, where are we now?"

Mirri gestured with her candlestick up towards the ceiling. "We are beneath the Opera House, in one of his passages. And as for how I knew of your predicament, the Phantom told me in advance."

Cloud stopped dead in his tracks. "He told you? Why?" Mirri continued to lead him down the passageway, her grip was surprisingly firm and she somehow managed to more or less drag the reluctant Viscount with her. "Simple, I am in his employ. He has given me permission to tell you because he wishes you to better understand the situation. Come with me to my room and I will explain matters more thoroughly."

Cloud was about to protest the impropriety of a lady taking a man she hardly knew to her room, but decided that the impropriety of someone of either gender working in the employ of a madman most likely eclipsed it, so he simply followed her in silence. A few halls and a winding staircase later, they reached their destination.

Mirri sat upon her bed and luckily there was a chair for Cloud to rest himself in since he would have sat upon the floor before he betrayed Aeris by joining Mirri on her bed. "You may be used to being master of your house with servants to take care of your every whim, but the Phantom is the master of this house, and he does not take well to insubordination. You would be a fool of the greatest caliber to ever consider challenging him within these walls again."

That the Phantom did indeed know this building like the back of his hand (and that it contained far more secrets then Cloud had ever suspected) had been made quite obvious. However, there were still countless other questions that he had about his rival for Aeris' affections, though one was foremost of all.

"What manner of man is he, this Phantom? The acts of appearing and disappearing, tricks made possible through the use of clever artifice no doubt, but how can a man move with the speed he does, or wield that blade so easily?"

Mirri calmly began to dig out the dirt and grime that had come to reside beneath her nails as she spoke. "His father, at least as he told the story to me, was an alchemist driven mad by his work. He closely examined the human body, and came to the conclusion that humans are not only impure, but effectively an impurity within our own bodies. Apparently, the body plays host to countless smaller beings that, though having no intelligence of their own, not only equal, but well outnumber those parts of ourselves that we can control.

He supposed that if these unwelcome guests in our bodies, that at best do nothing, and at worst act against us, might be turned to the our own purposes, humanity might well be seriously enriched. He developed all manner of concoctions and gave them to his wife while she was pregnant, and in the end these tinctures took her life; she perished shortly after giving birth to the Phantom.

But that alchemist must have succeeded to some degree, for Sephiroth, or as you know him, the Phantom of the Opera, is unlike any other man you will ever meet. He is quicker of thought, fleeter of foot, and stronger of arm than any this world has seen before. Originally, he was quite fair of face as well, however his father was driven further into madness by the loss of his wife, a loss he was reminded of every time he saw traces of her in their son's face. He acted in a manner that even beasts would find reprehensible, driven to an unthinking rage that his son might posses all the things he would never have, attacked and purposely mutilated his own child. Sephiroth rose to own defense, and in the ensuing struggle the alchemist was undone by his own creation.

I have never seen, nor wish to see, the ruined right side of his face. He claims it is as horrific as the untouched left side of his face is beautiful, and that contrast between the two makes his face in full all the more revolting a sight to behold. That is why he always wears at least mask over the right side of his face, though sometimes it is a full mask, as he chose tonight.

But, though there is no way he can undo his deformity, it is one of only a handful of tasks that fall outside his abilities. Sephiroth is a tyrant who rules his own body with an iron fist, able to push it and force it to commit acts the likes of which the rest of us can only dream. But, regardless of that control of his body, his mind is not necessarily his own.

From the time I've spent in his presence, I've noticed he's prone to flights of passion, for better or for worse, and when he falls into one, no force can stop him. It is with that relentless determination that he has set out to win Aeris' hand, and if someone insists on standing in his way, the only thing preventing his death is that Sephiroth has yet to think of a suitably dramatic way to dispose of him."

Cloud shuddered uncontrollably, though he knew little enough of alchemists, (that little was mainly due to the fact that Aeris' father had been one) but they were known far and wide in their various efforts for trying to distil a pure substance from an impure starting material.

It sounded uncomfortably like the Phantom's, no Sephiroth's, better to have a human name to hang upon his foe, it proved that in the end whatever his strength he was mortal, and if he could cut with his blade, in turn another blade could cut him. That said, it sounded as if Sephiroth's father had ended up distilling down the one factor which separated humanity from base animals, their power to think and reason.

That alone appeared to be Sephiroth's one defining human characteristic, thinking about the man, his gargantuan strength, effortlessly graceful movements at a tremendous speed, and vicious cunning, all spoke of a beast sealed in human flesh. His desires, for all his intellect, were beastly as well, for what was this conflict the two seemed locked in but a pair of males each seeking the attention of the same female?

"Why would any woman willingly work with such a fiend?" Mirri crossed her legs and glared at Cloud. "He has not the privilege of choosing from a great many servants, and since he could not find a male one with my talents, he thus accepts my services. The pay is quite rewarding as is the respect and power my current position affords me.

Don't forget, it is not upon my head that objects fall when he wishes to show his displeasure. Even his mind would be quite strained to find another servant as useful as me, and I would be hard pressed to find another master as respectful and generous as him, so neither of us want to consider life without the other. I warn you one last time Viscount, you are a man of a fine lineage with considerable wealth, power, and influence. Sephiroth's wealth is dependant on his intimidation of the managers and his power and influence do not extend much beyond the doors of this opera house.

Leave this place, never return, and find yourself a comely lass to bear your heirs. If you don't, a hemp chord pulling tight against your throat will be the last sensation you ever have. I trust that you know the opera house well enough to be able to find your way from my room without a guide?" Cloud wasn't entirely certain since he couldn't help but worry that he might accidentally stumble into another one of Sephiroth's secrete passages and end up lost forever within the confines of the Midgar Central Opera House, but he would not admit this to Mirri.

"Of course I can. Thank you for your information madam, and your warning, though you may tell your master that the Viscount Strife does not back down from petty threats." He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought he might have heard Mirri asking the question "You call what you witnessed tonight 'petty'? Just how spoiled were you as a child?," but one way or another, he refrained from responding.

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Two days later, Aeris stood before her father's crypt, it where she always went when she had some serious matter she needed to think on. She stood before the mighty crypt and bowed her head in reverence. "Father, you said you would send me an Angel of Music, and you did, but I have been unworthy. Angels are beings of greatest purity and virtue, and I am but a mere mortal woman of flesh and bone.

My actions have clearly driven him to a kind of madness, and when an angel falls, it becomes a demon. Father, what am I to do? It is my passion to sing, but if I return to the Opera House, he will be there waiting for me. If I go to another Opera House, even one outside of Midgar, I know he will find a way to follow me.

But then why must I go to any opera house? I hardly need to earn enough money to feed myself after all, Cloud is a Viscount, his fortune would see to the needs of me, my children, their children, and their children for generations to come after that. Still, father why would have you sent me an Angel of Music if I was not meant to learn from him, not meant to sing?

To sing, or not to sing; my Angel or my Viscount? The two could not be more different. Cloud is kind, and gentle, nothing but good hearted, even if he is somewhat lacking in matters of the mind. Which I suppose would make us a perfect couple by society's standards, if he was the one wearing a dress... When I am with him, I feel safe and secure, as if even should the entire world fall apart he would protect me.

The Angel on the other hand, his slightest move, his slightest touch, his voice alone, it sends shivers of unearthly and improper delight through my body. I owe all that I have become to him, and it is the very basis of morality to repay our debts, if only he were willing to accept payment actual coin like any other teacher.

Father, I can tell the Angel, whatever his actions, he does them out of love for me. If I were to give myself to him, then all would be right in the opera house. But, I do not want to simply sacrifice myself for what is right. I've already suffered so much in this life, losing mother, losing you, why must I suffer further?"

To her surprise an answer came from the direction of the crypt. "Simple, because a good blade will suffer more blows in the process of being forged then it ever does in battle. The essence of opera is suffering, can a man born blind paint? No, they will find it difficult to even find and pick up the brush. Can a man born deaf sing? No, he will not be even able to properly utter words.

Can someone who has never known suffering sing opera? Of course not. Compare yourself to Miss Scarlet, she has been told time and time again how brilliant she is, been given everything on a silver platter, and subsequently her voice would scare the crows from the trees around us. You and I Miss Gaste, we have both suffered horribly, and that suffering binds us together. What can that pretentious fop Strife know of suffering? Know of opera? Know of the true Aeris Gaste? Answer me that, my child."

As he finished speaking the Phantom stood up in plain view perched on the top of her father's crypt. Before she had to answer however, Cloud rode up on a chocobo, performed a truly impressive dismount and drew what was doubtlessly a real sword. "Stay back Aeris, this beast is not your father."

The Phantom crouched, dangling one leg off the front of the tomb. "I was speaking metaphorically, something that Miss Gaste was already quite aware of. Also, I'd advise against drawing a blade on me, it has a way of making a man feel unwanted."

Cloud shifted around placing himself between Aeris and the Phantom. "Well, you made every single person present at the Masquerade a few nights ago feel unwanted, so I am simply returning the favor on their behalf." The Phantom sighed, his blade sliding free of its sheath once again.

"You've been told who I am, what I am, but let me drive the lesson home, since you are clearly not burdened by an overabundance of schooling. In addition to overseeing every single opera that is produced in my home, I also find time to practice for at least two hours a day with this blade that I personally crafted and balanced. How it is even possible that you could be foolish enough to try and engage me in a duel?"

Cloud stepped forward his hands not shaking in the least. "Because I will not allow you to impose your will on Miss Gaste, it is the right thing to do."

The Phantom sighed and pressed his foot against the mausoleum's facade. "Don't sing the hero's part, boy; you haven't the voice for it." He pressed down with his foot and hurtled at Cloud, blade flashing.


	7. Chapter 7

Music of the Twilight

Music of the Twilight

Chapter seven: Rising Crescendo.

Cloud brought his blade up to block the Phantom's attack, but was knocked sprawling by the impact. He jumped to his feet, narrowly dodging a thrust that would have pinned him to the ground, and paled visibly as he parried the upswing.

Sephiroth smirked as the boy scrambled to dodge his thrusts and swings, easily parrying the occasional counterattack as he pursued his quarry through the graveyard. He suppressed a sigh of irritation as the boy swung his sword in a wide arc, then turned with his momentum and ran behind a row of cast iron latticework.

Cloud dropped into a crouch the moment he was behind the lattice, which was the only thing that saved him as the Phantom's sword cut clean through the barrier at what would have been chest height had he been standing. In a flash of inspiration, he thrust his sword at the newly detached top half of the wall, tipping it over onto his opponent.

Sephiroth reacted on instinct when the iron grid fell towards him. He reversed his momentum and batted it away to his left, where it landed with a resounding crash. His eyes widened slightly in almost-concealed surprise as the boy leapt over the fence in the wake of his swing, bringing his own blade down with a snarl of triumph.

Cloud's expression of triumph changed to one of fury as his opponent threw himself to the side, then one of pain as the tip of the Phantom's sword tore through his shoulder, and finally to one of fear as he saw his momentary advantage vanish into the falling snow.

Sephiroth landed just as the boy bent back down to free his sword from the frozen ground and sprang forward, delivering a kick that caught his opponent in the ribs and sent him back over the bisected barrier, minus his sword.

Pain. The pain in his arm paled to the burst of agony that accompanied the cracking sound from his ribs and the white-hot flash from his back and head as he landed against something solid. He was dimly aware of his opponent slowly, almost casually approaching him. He tried to get to his feet, but his vision swam and went grey, merciful unconsciousness claiming him as he collapsed.

Sephiroth glared down at his opponent's unconscious form as he raised his sword to deliver a deathblow, and he seemed more disappointed than surprised when Aeris ran to stop him.

"Don't." A pair of green eyes so very like and unlike Aeris' own turned to meet her gaze. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't use his blood to create my next masterpiece." Aeris responded, almost sadly, with three simple words: "You already know."

He hissed in indignation as he turned away from her. "Frailty, thy name is woman! I love you so fucking much, that I do believe the sensation is capable of making my physically ill. You know in your heart every single thing I've done for you, and what exactly has he done to deserve the affection you shower upon him?

Is it because he's rich? Should the desire overtake me, and it would if you but say the word, I could easily amass a fortune to rival that of a King, let alone some petty Viscount. He has been handed all he has by parents, and what did my parents give me? Nothing but this hideous countenance I hide behind my mask, yet I persevered and have come to acquire all I now have by my own merits.

Why, why, why, are you so in love with him, and the answer had best not be his face! If it is, I will take him with me and when next you two meet I will have ruined his face in just the same manner mine was. No… I think I'll disfigure the left side of his face, it's a much more artistically fitting punishment.

That way when next we stand side by side you can behold the unharmed right side of his face leading into my left, and decide which half you prefer better." Aeris shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the cold. "He doesn't kill people." The Phantom threw back his head and laughed. "No of course he doesn't, he doesn't have to. As a rich noble he has slower, more painful ways of bringing someone's life to a ruinous close.

More to the point, he has never been pressed up against a wall, almost crushed by a headless herd of humanity that has not a single care for the content of a man's mind if the shell surrounding it is disfigured. You see Miss Gaste, it's not my face that makes me a monster, it's the way that other people react to it that does.

I'll take my leave now, but bare the following facts in mind. You will undoubtedly be the leading lady in my opera, and when the time comes I will be watching you from much closer than before, as this fool has usurped my normal seat. With an opera of this caliber, starring a lead of your talent, well… even the incompetence of the rest of the cast will do little to diminish its grandeur- I wouldn't miss it for the world.

So, until that pleasant night when we once more gaze into each other's eyes, do be a dear and break a leg, since it would be an unmitigated shame if your refusal to go on and show the people of Midgar just how talented you truly are forced me to snap a spine." Then he calmly walked off into the swirl of snow. His boots made a slight crunching noise with each step they took, yet he somehow left behind no footprints. Aeris sighed and got to work dragging Cloud over towards his mount, hoping that he either came round fairly soon or that she proved better at riding chocobos then she thought she was.

-- / -- \\\\\ -- /

Reno watched the proceedings as the cast of the Midgar Central Opera House practiced their assigned roles in the production that had either been handed down to them from on high, or passed up to them from below. "How uncanny Rude, I know you're sitting next to me up here, but it's like I'm watching an entire stage full of you down there!"

Rude made no comment, so Reno shrugged and resigned himself to watching the rehearsal. The actors and stagehands were performing one and all as if they had been somehow replaced with machines or at least suddenly decided that Rude's taciturn nature was in style and so adopted it with a vengeance. They read their lines without forgetting a single one, they hit the right notes when singing, not even problems with the highly complicated dancing numbers.

Not having the resident tapeworm in the Opera House's digestive track screwing around with the production had been bound to make things go more smoothly, but Reno had never in his wildest dreams imagined something like this. "It does rather appear that our Phantom cast some kind of spell on over them, especially how they seem to be recovering from a daze every time they do finally stop practicing."

Reno clenched his hands together in joy. "Quite frankly I don't care if he's somehow slipping Silkis Greens into their food, look at them Rude, they're all down there and none of them have problems for us up here! Isn't it great? This is exactly what I always told you running an Opera House would be like!"

"Gentlemen, I have a problem that we need to discuss."

Reno hunched over as he slowly turned around seeing exactly what he expected, his patron. "Ms. Gaste feels for certain that the Phantom will somehow try to create a scene on the night that we open our current production to the public." Reno wondered where exactly Viscount Strife got off considering himself a part of the production, but then, people with money could get away with just about anything, especially being tactless.

"Why the hell would he want to do that? This is his play, he produced, he cast, he wrote the score, planned the steps, we're doing everything the way he wants it, why the hell would he want to wreck his own production? It'd be like buying a bottle of beer just for the sensation of smashing it against your head until you get a face full of broken glass."

Cloud evidently felt that the Phantom was just that crazy however. "Still, we must be on our guard as never before. On opening night, I want all the doors to be locked, and for there to be police men with guns amid the audience, several score of them. With any luck now that we actually know when the fiend will strike we can be prepared to properly respond."

"You realize..." "I'll cover all expenses involved." Oh how those five words were music to both Reno and Rude's ears. "All right then Viscount we'll get to work on it straight away!" By which of course Reno meant he'd get to work figuring out just what he could be reasonably sure of getting away with as an expense.

-- / -- / -- /

"Not gonna work." Viscount Cloud turned and glared at Mirri. "What isn't going to work?" Mirri shrugged.

"Don't know, but I'm playing the odds, whatever you're planning isn't going to work. All you're going to succeed at is making yourself look the fool twice over and possibly getting yourself killed." Mirri then began to get to work cleaning her nails, paying more attention to the dirt, grime, and other rubbish beneath her fingernails than to the nobleman before her.

"I suppose your real master sent you with that message?" Mirri didn't look up from her work. "Nope. Personally, I'm sure he'd be all but delighted if you were to slip on a curiously misplaced mop and break your neck in the fall. The 'all but' is of course because a death like that wouldn't teach everyone else in Midgar a lesson about the dangers of crossing him.

So you should just considering yourself glad that I have a surprisingly strong maternal side. I'm serious, he's already working on an overly complicated machine that will drop out the floor beneath anyone sitting in box five and control their fall in such a way that they land headfirst on an anvil, since he felt the reverse had been more or less run into the ground.

I mean, he did thrash your sorry ass back in the graveyard, so why are you even bothering to try and go toe to toe with him again?" Cloud drew himself up to his full height, glaring into her eyes. "Physical strength and skill with weapons isn't the only venue in which two men can compete against one another."

Mirri emitted a sound that was hard to define, but doubtlessly derisive in nature. "So you're going to outthink him then? Believe it or not, Sephiroth has actually figured out a way to put both his pants legs on at the same time. It's complicated, but it involves hanging them nearby his bed on a wire that can support the weight of his pants but not his entire body, so he simply jumps into them from the bed.

As I'm sure you can imagine by now, he has little to fear in a battle of wits with you." Cloud was still not intimidated though, there was still the simple matter of the guards. "I suppose next you will tell me that he is capable of outthinking bullets?" Mirri blew on her right hand as she finished cleaning it and moved onto the other one.

"He usually doesn't have to, since he can simply out maneuver them. That said, he also was just showing me that material he developed after studying the skin of a dead dragon. He tells me that his new version of his outfit is not only just as snappy looking but is also extremely bullet resistant at anything less then point blank range, and if someone was stupid enough to get that close he'd slice them to pieces. So while I'm not sure what scale you're grading on, that sounds to me a lot like being able to outthink bullets."

She blew on her left hand as she finished cleaning that one as well then shook it and sighed. "God damn gloves." "Beg pardon?" Mirri finally met his eyes again. "Gloves, I can't stand what working at this place does to my hands, but at the same time a woman can't wear gloves unless she's going to a formal party.

If society wants us to have clean fingernails, then it should let us wear garments that keep dirt from getting lodged under them. But that's another type of story entirely so allow me instead to close this conversation with a demonstration of why sticking around is a bad idea." Mirri put a hand on Cloud's shoulder in a show of false camaraderie and managed to get him to turn around.

"While you were busy listening to me, you never even noticed what was behind you, so let's just call this the 'noble's rush.'" Mirri pushed firmly on Cloud's black. Normally that would have just caused him to stumble a step or two forward, but not this time. This time he stumbled a step or two forward, and found that someone had apparently waxed the wooden floor behind him to the point that it was completely frictionless.

He flailed his arms, hopelessly trying to gain the footing that would not come. So he just kept right on sliding until tripped over a mop handle that was either very well or very badly placed. He careened about like a chocobo without its head cut off, totally unable to control his own body. This spectacle came to an end as he fell face first into a bucket of soapy water.

As he pulled his head out, tried to rub and blink out the burning sensation in his eyes and eventually noticed the hulking figure that was leaning over him. "Aren't you sort of... dead?" The Janitor shrugged. "I got better." Then the mop came down firmly on his head pushing him back into the bucket of water. By the time he was able to blink his eyes clear a second time, the dead man had vanished.

-- / -- \\\\\ -- /

"Don't think I can't see that you're trying to help him." Mirri didn't bother turning to face the voice; she knew he wouldn't be standing there.

"Help him? I'm chasing him off. You should thank me."

"Stop it. I can't kill him if he runs away, and worse, he may take Aeris with him! I'm too close, everything is playing into my hands, just stick to the plan."

"And when you have her?"

"Do as you please. She's all that matters."

FN: Yeah another short chapter, don't worry the next one, (which should also be the least one) will be a doosy. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll (hopefuly) leave reviews.

OWAN: I know the wait was forever, but school got in the way. Anyway, if you want to see how the firecat does without my help, check out "Ronin Trip", his Suikoden fic. Shouldn't be hard to find, as I'm pretty sure he's the only one with "firecat" in his username. In fact, you guys have been such good sports that I'm going to give you a song. This is an adaptation of a bonfire song of which I'm quite fond, but I made up some of the verses myself.

Surviving cast of Twilight Perfection is gathered on the Valar in a semicircle, with Reno in the middle. Sephiroth steps forward

Sephiroth: You know, we used to travel all over the place, but now, we're simply not welcome on most of the planet. There's a pretty simple reason for this- Mr. Reno here gets around-

Mirri: Though you wouldn't know it to look at him!

Reno: Hey!

Sephiroth: At any rate, there's all sorts of places we used to go. For example… begins singing We used to fly to Kalm, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Kalm, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for flowers…

Aeris(annoyed) We _had_ some of those on board…

Sephiroth: A rose she wanted?

Reno: Pluck 'er I did!

Sephiroth & Aeris: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Alex: We used to fly to Nibel, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Nibel, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for hides…

Reno: We had some of those on board.

Alex: Furs she wanted?

Reno: Shag 'er I did!

Alex: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Vincent: We used to fly to Wutai, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Wutai, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for Saké…

Reno: We had some of hic that on board.

Vincent: Booze she wanted?

Reno: (pelvic thrust) Saké she did!

Vincent: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Niro: We used to fly to Mideel, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Mideel, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for pastries…

Reno: We had some of those on board.

Niro: A cake she wanted?

Reno: Layer I did!

Niro: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Mirri: We used to fly to the Saucer, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to the saucer, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for chocobo's…

Reno: We had one of those on board.

Mirri: A racebird she wanted?

Reno: Saddle up, baby!

Mirri: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Melkore: We used to fly to Rocket Town, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Rocket Town, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for a good time…

Reno: We had one of those on board.

Melkore: A good time she wanted?

Reno: (anguished) THEN I FOUND OUT SHE WAS A MAN!

Melkore: That's why we don't fly there no more!

Aeris: We used to fly to Junon, and there we put ashore. We used to fly to Junon, we did but we don't anymore! A lady asked Reno for seafood…

Reno: We had some of that on board.

Aeris: Crabs she wanted?

Reno:(defensive) What have you heard?

Aeris: That's why we don't fly there no more!

All: Now we fly around Midgar, 'tis here we've put ashore. Now we glide around Midgar, like a thousand times before! A lady asked Reno for whiskey…

Reno: (smug) We had some of that on board.

All: Liquor she wanted?

Reno: I poured her a drink.

All: And now she's face down on the floor, down on the floooooor!

Special thanks to Andrew, Dani, Gabby, Kat, Kayla, and anyone else who's contributed to the Skivvy song as I know it. This song is really a lot better sung than read, but I had to try.


	8. Chapter 8

Music of the Twilight

Chapter eight: Lights, Camera, MAYHEM!

Black gloves, black pants, black coat, well sculpted but pale bare chest beneath said coat, and of course a black half mask to offset the color his hair and previously noted skin. "Tonight I cease to be a monster, and become a man!" "Does that mean you're getting laid?" Sephiroth turned and glowered at the Janitor. "What do you think?"

His newest minion gave him a thumbs up. "I say a guy can't get laid looking like you then he must have a fourth nipple." "Fourth?" The Janitor shrugged. "Chicks dig guys with three nipples, symbol of virility. Anyway, go knock em dead, let the every man woman and child who sets foot within this building stand, sit, or crouch in awe of your fearatude." "Feara- you know what, I don't care anymore."

-- -- -- -- -- -- 

There were soldiers, lots and lots of soldiers. In fact there were so many of them that Reno was started to get a little nervous himself and he hadn't even broken the law, recently. There were solders in the aisles, soldiers in the boxes, if there were was room for them, then there were soldiers there. He sighed and looked over at his business partner. "So Rude what do you wanna do tonight?" "Same thing we do every night Reno, try and survive an opera."

-- -- -- -- -- --

"Excuse me." Shinra turned around just in time to see Sephiroth drop out of the rafters, kicking the older man firmly in the chest and knocking him senseless. "It's just as well, really. You never did get this song right, so I'm doing the audience a favor here. You understand, I'm sure." Sephiroth gagged the rotund performer and tied his hands, then opened up a well placed trapdoor and dropped the unconscious actor into it.

"You'll thank me later… or at least, you would, if you ever saw me again, which I doubt you'll do. Anyway, it's time for me to put on the performance of a lifetime."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Sephiroth stepped out onto the stage, smirking at Aeris' gasp of recognition, then held his finger to his lips briefly before breaking into song. "You have come here, for one purpose and one alone…"

Aeris barely heard the rest of the verse over her heart pounding in her ears- Cloud and the managers had hoped he would pull something like this, but _they_ weren't on stage with this man who'd haunted her for over a year, this bizarre combination of stalker and mentor and _why was he looking at her like that?_ Oh, right… it was her line. She nearly choked on the first word, but caught herself and delivered the line. "You have brought me, to the moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence…"

Sephiroth felt his assured smirk slip into a true smile- one that was possibly even out of character, but he didn't care- She was not only singing for him again, but she was singing his own music, finally sharing in his work as he'd hoped she would since he first discovered her. He led her up the stairs to the set's second level as he added his voice to hers. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold! The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn; we've passed the point of no return…"

Somewhere in the corner of Aeris' mind, she remembered the construction crew saying that they had come in one morning to find this part of the set completed overnight. She knew without a doubt that coincidences didn't exist where Sephiroth was concerned, and was just as certain that whatever he was going to do, he would do it soon…

-- -- -- -- -- --

The idiots in blue were starting to realize (possibly from the frantic waving from the managers' box) that this wasn't part of the show, but it weren't sure what they could do about it, they couldn't exactly start shooting or else they end up hitting Aeris and the other cast members. All the same, Sephiroth could use a distraction to aid his escape, and the way Aeris' skirt was going to fly up in a few moments wasn't going to cut it.

So instead he held out his free left hand, a glistening red flame sprung into being in his palm, and he puffed on it gently. The flame flew from his hands and struck one of the ropes holding up the new chandelier, setting it ablaze. That would confound any plans the soldiers might have been making about rushing the stage.

Then Sephiroth reached over and pulled a well hidden lever causing the trap door to give way beneath them. Of course, as they fell Aeris skirt blew up, such a shame he was so much taller than her, but he didn't doubt the Midgar Central Opera House's 'owners' enjoyed the last look they would ever get of Miss Gaste.

-- -- -- -- -- --

James Firecat looked up to see that the chandelier was on fire. Again. Other men would have questioned the wisdom of working for someone like Sephiroth, even if he had vaulted them into a position so far beyond their years that they had to put on a disguise that made them look older just to keep eyebrows from being raised, but James didn't.

James was the kind of person who put the good of others before his own, and right now the Midgar Central Opera House was full of panicky people who needed help. And since the actual owners clearly weren't up the task, it fell to him to try and impose some order on the chaos that this production had degenerated into. Luckily, in the Midgar Central Opera House just about every other production ended up degenerating into chaos sooner or later, so what if this one in particular hadn't managed to make it to intermission?

He tapped his baton once to get attention, then spoke up in a loud and completely calm tone of voice.. "Remain calm everyone! Those of you who were lucky enough to attend to our production of Il Muto should know what to do by now. If you check your tickets carefully, you'll notice the Midgar Central Opera House is not responsible for refunding your money should the chandelier catch fire!

Thank you for your patronage and please come again, if we're ever open!" James wasn't going to run for his life this time, since he was pretty sure he had nothing left to lose by showing people he knew about some of the Phantom's secret passages. With one hand he grabbed the sheet music that he had slaved away to write, his other arm seized hold of the necessary lever.

He gave it a tight yank, and the trap door opened all of five feet away from James, who then dived through it, slamming it shut behind him. The entire theater could catch fire and the ceiling collapse, but it wouldn't make much difference to him. Not to mention that by the time he finished running the full length of this underground tunnel and he'd be able to come up above ground outside the theater! As he raced along James wondered how many other jobs there were where the person hiring you listed "personal escape tunnel" under the perks?

-- -- -- -- -- --

Others ran away knowing that sheer catastrophe would be the only possible result of the chandelier falling, but Viscount Cloud Strife ran for the stage. Sephiroth had neglected to close his passage behind him once again, and if he did not wish to harm Aeris it had to be a relatively short drop. Without second thought he jumped in.

-- -- -- -- -- --

"Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair, down we plunge to the prison of my mind, down that path into darkness deep as hell!" "I get it already, you're kidnapping me, you've got a great voice, a grip like a vice, and a mind that's several stanzas short of a verse; you don't need to narrate your own actions."

Sephiroth turned to glare at Aeris from behind his black mask. "I thought you liked my voice." Aeris cocked an eyebrow at him. "Teaching me to sing: charming. Self narrating in song: a bit much."

He coughed a few times to clear his throat and convert his mind from poetry to prose. "Well how was I suppose to know that kind of thing? This is my first time, you know." "You realize Cloud is going to come for me." He paused in mid step so that Aeris could take in the full length of his demonic leer. "Realize? My dear Ms. Gaste, I am counting on it!"

-- -- -- -- -- --

Cloud felt his stomach lurch as the floor gave way beneath him, but fortunately, it was only a 12-foot drop into waist-deep water. He clamored to his feet and saw Aeris on a stone terrace covered in instruments, sculptures, candelabra and other accoutrements of a well-off artistic recluse. He didn't see the Phantom, though, but his confusion was soon appeased as he felt a noose tighten around his neck.

Sephiroth released the rope, which not only didn't fall, but actually rose straight in the air, forcing the idiot boy to go on tiptoes or be strangled. "You've had this choice for a while now, Aeris, and it seems to me you need some help making the right decision. It's no surprise, really; even the best actresses need motivation to perform their roles properly. I've engineered this entire evening to that effect: choose a life of shadows and music with me, and let the boy go on his way, move on, and otherwise get out of our life. Or, deny me, and leave here alone… assuming you can find the way." 

Aeris stepped into the water and slowly approached him. "Let me see your face for once before I make my choice." Sephiroth's gestured impatiently "Fine, fine, fine! Look upon the horror that you will have to live with if you don't want to see him do the hemp fandango, the first dance he'll do properly!" She reached up and tentatively removed the dark mask that hid the right side of his pale face.

It was perfect. The right side of Sephiroth's face was just as perfect as the left. No, not just as perfect, there were three tiny lines that formed a somewhat stilted "S" on his right cheek. "See? It stands for Sephiroth, for that is the name and mark my father cursed me with as I choked the life from him before he could do the same to me." Aeris looked at it, then for some reason seemed to forget just forget about the rope around Cloud's neck.

"THAT'S IT? THAT FUCKING 'S' IS THE REASON YOU'VE ABANDONED ALMOST ALL HUMAN CONTACT AND STALK ABOUT THIS PLACE LIKE A GHOST IN THE NIGHT?" Sephiroth was momentarily taken aback by the volume and vehemence of her response, but recovered and matched her decibel for decibel.

"YES THIS IS IT! HAVE YOU SEEN ALL THE STUFF I'VE DONE OF YOU? ALL THE DRAWINGS AND MODELS I'VE MADE OF THIS PLACE, NOT TO MENTION THE SECRET PASSAGES I MADE? DO YOU NOT GET THE FACT THAT I AM PERFECTIONIST? TO ME, NEARLY PERFECT IS SERIOUSLY FUCKED UP! I CAN DO ANYTHING I PUT MY MIND TO EXCEPT MAKE THAT THING GO AWAY, AND EVERY TIME I SEE THAT 'S,' MY TWISTED MIND MAKES ME WANT TO RIP MY OWN SKIN OFF!" 

Aeris glared at Sephiroth and walked over to him. "Did the thought, EVER enter your silver covered head, to just do THIS?" She reached into his jacket. yanked out a small knife, and Sephiroth just stood there in shock. Slash. Slash! SLASH!! "THERE, NOW LOOK AT YOURSELF IN ONE OF YOUR TWO, FREAKING, DOZEN, MIRRORS !" Sephiroth looked in one of his mirrors, stiffened briefly, then dropped to his knees.

Aeris had carved another "S" into his left cheek. He slowly raised his right hand to touch the original mark on the other side of his face as he came to a sudden realization. "They're symmetrical." Aeris was still holding the blood stained knife so tightly that her veins looked like they might pop at any moment. "They better be!" Sephiroth raised his right hand to the slash on his right cheek. "They're symmetrical..." He uttered it like this was the greatest event since the discovery of fire.

"They're symmetrical, and if they're symmetrical, that means that it's not a deformity, they're a fashion statement!" He began to jump up and down like a school boy. "THEY'RE A FASHION STATMENT!" The next thing either of them knew, Aeris' tongue was so far down Sephiroth's throat that she could taste the decades of dust he'd inhaled living down here. They broke apart for a few short moments. "You taught me how to sing!" "You fixed my face!"

The next thing after that they knew they were on the floor. "Damn, who the hell made these confounded undergarments, I've run into safes that are easier to pick!" "If you think they're hard to open, you should try wearing them!" "I'll make you something simpler." "I'd love that."

The two went back to rolling back around, Sephiroth trying vainly to get Aeris' various undergarments off but failing so spectacularly that he had only going to try one more time before he just ripped it off, then he came up with another idea. "Aeris where the hell is my knife?" "So you can cut my bra off?" "Would you prefer if one of us rolled across it and accidentally got it in the back?" "Lets find that stupid knife."

The Viscount finally choked out "So, um, I'll just be going then?" Sephiroth found the knife and flicked it casually at a space just above the end of the noose. There was a soft "twang" and the rope went limp. The Viscount gasped for breath for a few moments, then somehow managed to utter just the right words, or at least not the wrong words. "Aeris do please invite me to the wedding." Aeris watched her childhood friend walk down the long dimly lit pathway alone. "Damn that's a mood killer." Sephiroth wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "I said, DAMN THAT'S A MOOD KILLER!"

The arm was withdrawn. "Right, don't have to tell me three times." "Seph, for someone supposedly so smart, you really have al to learn about romance." "Teach me, teach me!" "To start with, all that stuff of me, one object in each medium of art on their own is endearing, several of each of them, makes me wonder if you haven't been sniffing my dirty clothes and subsequently getting high off my scent. Also I don't care what you do with them, but the mannequin and collage of me have to go. Finally, we're really gonna have to work on this whole 'evil' thing. No more terrorizing people for fun and profit."

There was a large crash as Sephiroth grabbed the mannequin of Aeris in the wedding dress, and unceremoniously pitched it through one of the mirrors that apparently had a secret passage behind it, because the thing vanished from view. He also ripped down the collage, rolled it up, and as casual as possible began to feed it into a torch. "Woman, I'm willing to change for you, but don't push it. How's this: I terrorize whoever I want, but I share the profit with you and don't spend more than 40 hours a week on it."

Aeris draped her arms around his neck and pressed up against him. "I suppose I can live with that..."

-- -- -- -- -- --

Cloud sat on the streets outside the still burning Midgar Central Opera House, and just looked at the ground. Eventually he'd have to stand up, go to his carriage and ride back to his mansion but he wasn't about to right now. A hand went round his shoulder and he looked at who it belonged to. "Sorry, it just seemed like you needed it."

Cloud found himself staring into a pair of deep brown eyes, and they weren't the only eye catching pair of sphere's on the woman's body. "Thank you Ms..." "Lockheart, Tifa Lockheart. I was her best friend, you know." 

Cloud feigned ignorance. "Whose?" "Aeris'. She talked about you a lot. Said you were like a brother to her." Cloud resisted the urge to turn in spit in the ashes of the Midgar Centra Opera House; that was a phrase that no man ever wanted to hear unless he shared the sentiment. "She said you were kind, and friendly to her even though she was the daughter of a gypsy alchemist and musician while you were a nobleman." "Well I was a young fool back then." Tifa didn't remove her arm. "And the reason you were still interested in her now?" "Because apparently I grew into a foolish man."

"My father told me that maturity is simply being able to realize how foolish we are." Cloud looked back at the theater and then at Tifa. "It was a big place, did you sleep there?" She nodded slowly. "Yeah, that opera house wasn't just where I went to work, it was my life. I slept in there, practiced in there, ate inside its walls, almost like a nun inside some cloister."

"Would you like to come to my mansion for the night?" Cloud quickly added onto his words. "I mean, for a while really, I'm sure there place could use an extra maid or something." "I'd like that job." It was not Tifa who said that but a man who was even taller then the Phantom who had somehow managed to sneak up on the two. He leaned on a mop as he spoke. "I mean why would you want some no-account maid making sure your floors were dusted when you could have an honest to god well trained Janitor with countless years of experience." "Okay sure..."

Cloud agreed with the man just so that he wouldn't have to worry about him and could keep talking to Tifa. "In that case, how would you like to cook? Can you cook?" "I can learn." 

All of a sudden, an ordinary looking manhole cover came unscrewed and James Firecat crawled out, or at least someone who looked like he would grow up to be James Firecat as Cloud remembered him in about 30 to 40 years. The man looked both ways as he clambered out of the cities sewer system. "Blast! The tunnel may be outside the building, but it's thirty feet short of where it's supposed to break ground! How did this happen? There's only one thing to do, run for it!"

Cloud watched him go and then turned his attention back to Tifa. "You're used to living in that building, so you tell me, was that as odd as I thought it was?" Tifa just shrugged. "I think living there has taught me the important lesson of look, watch, and then go back to your life without getting hung up on the small things."

--

Rude and Reno looked at the burning theater, making sure to stand a very safe distance away from it. "That's it, we're ruined." Reno and Rude cried into each other's clothing, Rude particularly because he had been attending tonight's performance with a woman, who happened to have been one of the first to flee. "This is definitely going on the books as a loss." That one word carried more horror in their voices than most people would use have when they uttered the phrase "loss of life."

Just then Mirri walked up, looking as calm as ever, even though bits of ash clung to her clothes and hair. "I have something for you two, but I promise you it's the last one." Looking at the fancy tree on the letter's seal, Reno desperately hoped that Mirri was telling the truth. Slowly he opened it and then both of them read it out loud. "My dear theater managers, it is to your credit that I have never met such an effective pair of 'owners', in the sense that you realize when to stand aside and let more the experienced hands pull the necessary strings.

And, I am pleased to add, you did pay back all necessary monetary amounts for your time at this opera house. Though I do have day to day living expenses, a reasonable amount of money you gave me was invested in insurance, so that should my theater ever come to harm by fire, large amounts of money would be paid out to certain people, and as you have allowed my agents to perform their tasks, you to shall now be among them. Take the note enclosed in this letter to the address on the back.

The policy is worth 10 million gill, you will send 1 million of it to the second address on the back, please do not attempt to investigate it, or stiff me on my money. The other 9 million are yours, since I'm quite sure you will need to purchase a considerable amount of black ink in your futures. Until I have need of your services, I respectfully take my leave. Sephiroth A. Valentine: Opera Ghost, Phantom of the Opera, etc."

Reno and Rude carefully resealed the letter, and carefully handed it back to Mirri with a "Sweet Planet, we're not broke, we're rich!" Then the two broke into unrestrained jubilation, dancing in the street, skipping in joy, and kissing every woman who would let them.

"Aw, isn't that sweet, who doesn't love a happy ending?" Mirri smiled as she ran a hand through James' bright red hair. "Not me, that's for sure, in fact if he's as punctual as ever ours should be arriving right about now..."

Sure enough, a section of the street outside the Midgar Opera House slid to the side, allowing an black carriage being pulled by two chocobos with feathers of the same color to emerge from yet another passage underneath Opera House and the streets surrounding it. As the thing rolled by James and Mirri stuck out their arms to grab a hand hold before deftly jumping onto the thing's back bumper. Once they were there, Mirri held on with one hand while the other produced a piece of chalk and began to write fairly legibly upon the back of the thing.

Thus all who saw this particular carriage go past would easily be able to read "Just Betrothed" upon its back as it road off into the moonlight.

The end.

FN: That's all folks, now we're gonna get back to writing sequels to Twilight Perfection, Last chance to tell us what you think of this fic if you've read this far.


End file.
